The Shipment
by mini metro
Summary: An edited version of the previous story.
1. Chapter 1

**Same story, but edited with some minor changes. There were so many mistakes in the first version. I probably didn't get all of them, but it should read a lot better.**

From the car, Harry watched the pub. It was the third day of the stakeout, and they'd gotten nothing for their trouble so far. Harry scanned the road for their man. A few cars passed by, two girls walked along the pavement, an old man with a dog. Nothing. The lack of results, as well as the light drizzle, were depressing. She ran the windscreen wipers. Sighing, she fixed her gaze on the Canton Arms again. The car door opened. Dempsey jumped into the Ford.

"I hate this weather!" He muttered. "I hate it!" With cold fingers, he fumbled to open the brown paper bag.

"I know, you tell me every day."

"Here." Dempsey gave Harry an apple from the paper bag.

"Thanks." Harry watched him pull a sandwich from the bag. "What's that?"

Dempsey glanced at her.

"Huh?"

"That!" Her lips curled in disgust.

"This, Makepeace, is bread...yep, definitely bread. And meat...I think. And sauce, a lotta sauce."

He gave a small grunt of pleasure as he took a bite. "Delicious! Wanna a bite?"

"No thanks." The apple was a lot more appealing.

"Eh, life is hard Makepeace." He winked at her, with a lopsided grin. The truth was he wasn't eating nearly as much junk as he used to.

Harry checked her watch. Still, an hour and a half to go until Chas and Dave would relieve them.

"What a waste of time." Dempsey gave her a suggestive smile. "You know, Makepeace. There are a lotta things we could be doing right now."

"Yes, we could." Harry mused. "I could be playing the piano. Read a book. Or shop, I definitely need some new shoes.". She took another bite of her apple. Dempsey feigned disappointment, as Harry gave him a complacent look.

"Watts has no permanent address. Not one that we know of. I suppose he doesn't really need one to deal." Dempsey surmised. "But this pub's his usual hangout. He's bound to show up at some point."

"Yep"

"Perhaps I oughta go inside, have a look? Talk to the bartender?"

"Dempsey, we are supposed to observe, and call in for instructions when Watts arrives."

"Well, we could both go. You can protect me in case anyone wants to shoot me, huh?" He quipped, referring to the time Crazy Joe nearly killed him.

"You know, Dempsey? That joke is getting very old. If you don't shut up about it, I'll bloody well shoot you myself!" She retorted, watching him finish his sandwich. "Unless, of course, you die from a heart attack first."

"Yeah, okay." He shrugged and wiped his mouth. "Won't mention it again."

When she returned to the force, she thought long and hard about how things were going to be. Whether she could work with Dempsey again. She cared. She cared a lot. For a while now. Such was the nature of the job; it was almost inevitable. They spent most of their time together, and their partnership was effective. She now knew he cared too. It balanced things out for her. They had both invested in the partnership. In the end, she resigned herself to the fact she perhaps cared too much, put it aside as a given, and focus again on the police work she loved doing. With Dempsey. Spikings observed their working relationship more keenly those first few weeks after her return. Unsure, whether his top team could pick up where they left off. It surprised Harry how quickly they managed to get back to business as usual. After a few weeks, Spikings eased on the extra attention he paid them.

"Makepeace!"

Her thoughts interrupted, Harry looked up. Dempsey pointed.

"There's our man".

"Yep."

Toby Watts came around the corner, walking in their direction. Then he stepped off the pavement to cross the street. A few seconds later he entered the pub and was out of sight again.

"You wanna call it in? Makepeace?"

She wasn't listening. From the other side of the street, a middle-aged, thickset man approached them. Harry watched him pass the Ford. Without looking around, shoulders hunched in the rain, the balding man hurried across the street and disappeared inside the pub.

"Harry? You know that guy?"

"Yes." Harry called to mind what she knew about the man. "Chas arrested him a few years ago, for trafficking drugs." Her fingers played with her hair while she tried to remember the man's name. "Whelan...John Whelan. He got off lightly for some reason; only did a couple of years." Harry turned to Dempsey. "Why would he show up here?"

"Coincidence?"

"I doubt it." Harry picked up the handset of the RT. "Charlie 5 to control, over."

The two men sat three tables away from them. They were too far away for Dempsey and Makepeace to follow the conversation. Judging from the body language, the men were discussing something important.

"They're making plans. I can smell it." Dempsey stated, over his cup of coffee.

"Hmm." Casually, Harry looked out the window, before focusing on her cup of tea again. "Chas and Dave are here."

"Good, then we're all set up."

Heads close together, Whelan and Watts were still talking.

"They're up to something." Dempsey muttered. "Harry."

Whelan shook Watts' hand, stood up and left the pub. Toby Watts remained seated for a few minutes. He finished his drink, then made his way to the door. A few moments after Watts passed the window, Chas walked past, giving Harry a quick nod. Some distance behind him, Dave followed, in his car. Harry faced Dempsey again.

"You wanna order?" Dempsey was thumbing through the menu. "What?"

Deft fingers pulled the menu out of his hands.

"We are expected back at the station."

"You ever do something naughty, Makepeace?"

Harry raised an eyebrow at him, lips curving into a subtle smile, she turned and walked out. Leaving Dempsey with a broad smile on his face. He'd never get tired of provoking these reactions from his partner. He emptied his coffee cup and got up to join her in the car.

When they arrived back at the station, they found Spikings behind his desk, rubbing his head.

"No word from Chas?" Dempsey asked.

"Not yet."

Harry and Dempsey exchanged a quick look. It had been a busy week at SI 10. Two murders. An armed robbery. And, with the arrival of John Whelan, their case was getting bigger and bigger.

The crackling sound of the radio rang through the office. "Goldfish four to control."

Dempsey beat Harry to the radio, which earned him an annoyed look.

"This is control. Whaddya got Chas?"

"Followed Watts to a terraced house in Solon Street, number fifty-two", over."

Harry reached for the radio. Her cold hand covered Dempsey's. She pushed the speak button.

"Do you think he resides there?"

Dempsey would never get tired of _these_ little moments either. Sometimes, when he least expected it, she'd move into his space. The best moments were, when she wasn't even aware of it; like now. Her hand held his, while Harry's mind focused on something else.

"Looks like it. He had the key." Chas answered.

Harry stepped back, to sit behind her computer.

"Fifty-two Solon Street." She murmured, tapping the keys on the keyboard.

"Tell Chas to come in." Spikings called from his office.

While Harry typed away on her computer, Dempsey relayed the message to his colleague. Harry felt his eyes on her, but she didn't have time to react to it. Dempsey moved closer, a little smile on his face. She grimaced but kept on typing.

"And Sergeant… solved the case yet?"

"Nearly there, _Leftenant_." Harry replied primly.

"Perhaps, you'd like a cuppa coffee, since you're working so hard?" He proposed.

"Very good, Leftenant." Momentarily taking her eyes off the screen. "Make yourself useful."

"I'll get on it straight away, Sergeant." With a small bow, he stepped towards the coffee counter.

"Well, isn't this interesting." Harry sat back in her chair, re-reading the information she found on her computer. "Guess who owns fifty-two Solon Street?"

"Who?" Dempsey handed Harry her coffee. She turned the screen his way.

"Are you kidding me?" The implications of what he was reading, rushed through his brain. "Steven Hardy?"

"Yep!" Harry swallowed a comment on the usefulness of desk work when she saw Dempsey's faraway look.

"This is big, Harry!" He started pacing. "Steven Hardy. The guy came up in several drug investigations, but no one's been able to pin anything on him. I bet he's the mastermind behind all this."

"And the money behind it," Harry added.

Dempsey ran a hand through his hair, " _And_ the money." He nodded. "So we have Watts, Whelan and now Hardy… They're planning something big Harry!"

"So, what now?"

Dempsey stopped pacing. "Whatever we do, we gotta be careful."

"Is Jay back on the street again, do you know?" Harry wondered.

"Jay? I think so, yeah. Why?"

"He used to buy his coke off Watts. Perhaps we should pay him a visit, mmm?"  
"Yank his chain a bit?" Dempsey rubbed his hands together. "Should be fun."

"Well you can yank all you want, but I've had enough for today. I'm going home."

"We'll visit him tomorrow." Dempsey put on his coat. "You wanna pick up some take-away and go to my place?"

"I've already got something prepared at home." She grabbed her bag and keys and headed for the door. "But you're welcome to share."

Initially, when she came back, she held off on privately spending time with Dempsey. Making excuses not to go for a drink, or go see a movie. At work, things quickly fell back into place. Thanks to Dempsey who, aside from making the odd joke, never asked for explanations. After a while, she accepted one of his invitations. More followed. Put aside any other feelings she had for her partner, he was also still her friend, and she enjoyed his company. The conversations they had, she couldn't imagine having with anybody else. The things she'd find herself discussing with him were diverse. His insights were surprising. Dempsey's original mind was as attractive to her as the rest of him was.

They walked up the stairs of a grotty apartment building. The pungent smell in the hallway was repulsive. Jay's apartment was on the second floor. They knocked on the door.

"What if he's not there?"

"We'll wait." Dempsey answered.

Harry looked around the hallway, a disgusted look on her face. The door opened before she could express her disgust.

"Hiya Jay, what's up?" Dempsey said brightly.

Jay's face fell as he looked from one to the other.

"Enjoying freedom?" Moving past Jay, Harry walked into the small apartment, followed by Dempsey.

Jay protested: "Hey! You can't just barge in here."

"Watch me!" Dempsey surveyed the room. "Very nice place you got here Jay. Very nice." He picked up a small zip lock plastic bag from the table and held it up to show Harry. "Not sure _this_ is a good idea."

"Tsk tsk." Harry wagged a finger at Jay.

"What do you want?" The young man queried.

"We'd like some information on Toby Watts."

"I don't know anything, Sergeant. Honest!" Jay crept toward the door.

Dempsey gave Harry a shrug before he grabbed Jay by the collar and drove him into the wall. Jay yelped in pain.

"How's this, Jay; _you_ tell the Sergeant what she wants to know. And _we_ don't bust you for possession of illegal drugs. You might even still have all your teeth by the time we leave."

" _Even still_ , Dempsey?" Harry rolled her eyes.

"What?"

Harry sighed, turning her attention back to Jay.

"We have reason to believe Toby is working on something. He's been in contact with some very interesting people." Dempsey held Jay in place against the wall. The young man's expression of pain couldn't conceal the flash of recognition in his eyes.

"These people are setting something up." Harry continued. "And you're going to tell us what you know."

Jay considered his options, while Dempsey slowly increased the pressure on Jay's larynx until he started coughing.

"Alright, alright!"

"Smart guy." Dempsey let go and straightened Jay's jacket.

"I don't know much. These people are into smuggling cocaine. Lots of it." Jay cleared his throat. "The whisper on the street is: they're arranging for a huge shipment to be smuggled into the country."

"Who?" Harry asked.

"When?" Dempsey demanded.

"Don't know, next couple of months." Jay seemed uncomfortable. "Look, that's all I know, alright?"

Dempsey gave Jay a benign smile. He wasn't finished with the young man yet. "These drugs coming from South America?"

"Probably."

A hand clenched around Jay's collar again. "What's that?"

"Yeah, yeah. South America."

"Where are they shipping to?" Harry asked.

Despite the chill in the apartment, beads of sweat trickled down Jay's face. "I heard Whelan usually ships his stuff straight to the London docks." He swallowed hard. "Don't know where exactly. That's all I know, honest."

Harry and Dempsey exchanged a quick look.

"We didn't mention Whelan, Jay." Harry said softly. Jay closed his eyes as he realised his mistake.

"We appreciate your help, Jay. That's all for now." Dempsey patted him on the shoulder and went for the door.

"If we have any more questions..." A wink at Jay and Harry followed her partner out the door; back into the hallway. "Let's get out of here."

They drove back to the station, in silence. Neither of them had anything to say, just yet. Both were reflecting on the next step, viewing the case from different angles. Dempsey glanced over at his partner. Eyes on the road, she paid attention to the traffic, but he knew her mind was busy putting pieces together. What would he have done if Harry hadn't returned to SI 10? Gone back to New York? He couldn't remember when London became 'home' to him. He still loved to grumble about the English. The weather. The language and the food, but it was all in good fun. He didn't really want to leave. If he was honest, Harry was a large part of that.

" _You think I like working in this dump without you?"_ The admission that got her back. Spikings had told him she _cared._ Strong, capable and composed Harriet Makepeace _cared,_ about him. He was still reeling from that one. He'd been very careful not to push her away by confronting her. Intuitively, he felt Harry struggled to find her feet. She had difficulty relating to him and working with him again. He didn't interfere with her struggle. However, he was glad when equilibrium was restored. They were Dempsey and Makepeace again; he could breathe more freely. His musings were disturbed when Harry turned into the SI 10 car park.

Sitting behind his desk, Spikings mulled over the latest information. "Chas and Dave also had an exciting morning. They were tailing Whelan. Guess where they ended up?"

"The docks?"

Spikings pointed his finger at Dempsey, indicating he was right.

"Exactly Leftenant." He started pacing his office. "A large shipment coming from South America." He halted next to Harry. "We'll have to catch them in the act when this shipment arrives, Sergeant… Sergeant?"

Harry was miles away, Dempsey noticed.

"Sorry, I wasn't listening." Harry apologised.

"Makepeace, you are paid to listen to me." Spikings berated.

"Well, sir, I was thinking about Steven Hardy."

"Yes?"

"My father's acquainted with the Hardy family. Not sure how _well_ he knows them, but I'm sure he's done business with the family."

Spikings considered the options. "Very good Sergeant. Perhaps, he has some useful background information."

"Perhaps." Harry agreed. "I'll have to go and see him. He is hopeless talking on the phone."

"Well, Sergeant. It's Friday. If you leave this afternoon, you will have the whole weekend to talk."

Dempsey followed Harry out of Spikings' office.

"I'll call first to see if he's busy." Harry grabbed her phone and dialled.

Dempsey played with his pen as he listened in on Harry's conversation with her father.

"...I'd like to talk to you about a case we're working on. I think you might know one of the people involved."

"Oh my, that sounds intriguing." Lord Winfield said. "What's it about?"

"I'll tell you later. You're not busy?" Harry asked.

"Heavens no. Never to busy for you, my dear. So, what time will you and James get here?"

"Uhm... Well, it's just going to be me, daddy. I thought I'd stay the weekend."

"Nonsense! Bring James too. It's for work isn't it?"

Harry glared at her partner. "He probably has better things to do this weekend, Freddie."

Dempsey gave Harry a lopsided grin. He'd guessed what lord Winfield had requested.

"Would you mind checking my dear?" Lord Winfield suggested. "It'd be jolly good to see him again. We didn't have enough time to talk, last time he was here. Such an interesting fellow."

 _Interesting fellow._ Sighing, Harry covered the mouthpiece with her hand.

"My father wants to invite you to Winfield Hall."

Relishing the moment, Dempsey took his time to think about the offer.

"Tell Lord Winfield I'd love to join you guys."

With an annoyed look, Harry put the phone back to her ear.

"Depending on how busy it is, we'll be there late in the afternoon." She told her father.

"Ah, very good, very good. I'll see you two later."

Dempsey put on his coat and headed towards the door. His hand nudged Harry's shoulder as he walked past her.

"Pick you up in an hour." Then he was gone.

Harry rubbed her brow, before pushing a lock of hair away from her face. Dempsey was already so close to her. Because of work. Because of the natural affinity, they had for each other. Harry sighed. There was no doubt Dempsey _knew_ her; her character. What was important to her, what made her angry, what made her laugh, her strengths, her vulnerabilities. Much like she'd gotten to know him. She didn't talk about herself with Dempsey; about her life, memories. An automatic defence mechanism. Keeping these little facts to herself helped to maintain a grip on their relationship. It gave her a sense of control. She needed it to contain her emotions. Otherwise, she'd have no choice but to give in to his flirtations. Dempsey, of course, did nothing _but_ talk about himself. For a moment their contrasting characters amused her. Then she stood to leave.

Lord Winfield met them in the entrance hall.

"Ah. Harriet, dear!" Smiling broadly, he walked over to his daughter. Dempsey watched Harry put her arms around her father in a loving embrace.

"Hello, Freddie."

She kissed her father gently on the cheek. Such open displays of affection were rare. It intrigued Dempsey that the warm and relaxed woman who was smiling fondly at her father, and his cool, calm and collected partner, were the same person.

"James!" An arm still around his daughter, Lord Winfield extended his hand to Dempsey. "So good of you to come. We'll have time to talk, this time."

"I appreciate the invite, sir."

"We do have something specific to talk to you about." Harry started.

"Huh?"

"I told you on the phone. About the case, we're working on?"

"Later dear, later! Right now you should hurry up and get ready. We have guests for dinner."

Harry gave her father an exasperated look.

"Freddie, why didn't you tell me you were entertaining?"

"They're not staying over, Harriet, dear. We'll have plenty of time to talk, tomorrow."

Glad he brought a suit, Dempsey straightened his tie. Harry came down in a burgundy cocktail dress. These days, _beautiful_ wasn't the first word that entered his mind when he thought of Harry. However, there were moments she took his breath away. Smiling, she took the arm he offered her. Making their way to the dining room, Dempsey saw his partner changing into Lady Harriet; putting on the 'game face' she used for these occasions. To his surprise, it turned out to be an enjoyable evening. Dempsey entertained the guests with his American charm and his anecdotes. Harry wondered how it was possible Dempsey could fit in with people from different layers of society. At home in lowly surroundings. At ease with the upper class. He was always Dempsey.

"Harriet?"

"Mmm?" She leaned towards her father next to her.

"Would you mind asking Abbott to bring in the coffee, please?"

"Of course."

At ten o' clock, Harry excused herself and left the party to make her way upstairs. The footsteps she heard behind her were Dempsey's. She slowed a bit to let him catch up.

"Your old man sure knows how to throw a dinner party."

"Well, he's given quite a few." Harry took a quick sideways glance. "You were also in good form tonight. The crowd at your feet." The words were accentuated in that distinctive way she had. Harry halted at the door of her room and put her hand on the door handle.

 _Goodnight Dempsey, see you tomorrow._

She found herself facing him.

"You know, Makepeace. I could show you some more good form if you want." He leaned in a bit. An impish grin on his face, a hand on the doorpost. As she inhaled, Harry got the familiar smell of his aftershave. That intense look made her temporarily blind and deaf to anything going on around her. She exhaled, pointing a finger towards the end of the hallway.

"Your room's over there."

Dempsey expected she'd decline his offer. That's what he counted on; Harry controlled the brakes in their partnership. He smiled, then moved back a bit and put his hands in his pockets.

"Goodnight, Dempsey." Harry opened the door and entered her room.

"Still think I got a fifty-fifty shot, at least, of getting lucky, someday." The door didn't offer a reply. Wishful thinking? Maybe, but she was definitely tempted.

Saturday morning, Dempsey found Harry in the breakfast room reading the Saturday paper.

"I hope your good form gave you a good night's sleep." Harry put a piece of toast in her mouth.

"Excellent night's sleep." He nodded. "Your father not around?"

"He's around somewhere, doing something." She shrugged. "I've learned not to interfere with his habits and rituals."

Dempsey poured himself a cup of coffee and sat down to eat.

"So how come you're always commenting on mine?" He winked.

The paper was more interesting than Dempsey's joke. Quietly, they finished their breakfast.

Harry folded her napkin and tossed it on the table.

"Do you mind venturing out on your own for a bit? There are a few things I'd like to take care of while I'm here."

"No problem. I'll just have a look round the castle. Maybe go out for a drive or something." Dempsey reached over to pick up a part of the paper. Harry finished her coffee.

"I'll be in the study if you need me."

"Fine. See ya, later." Dempsey waved, keeping his eyes on the front page of the paper.

He took his time roaming around the castle. It was an interesting experience, knowing Harry a lot better. The last time he was here, he didn't pay much attention to the personal stuff. They had a case to solve. Now, he looked around, aware of the fact this was the home where Harriet Makepeace grew up. Not that he knew much about art, but Winfield Hall had a few pieces he liked. Especially, the gallery with large paintings of the Lord and Harry's ancestors. The last room he visited was the cosy lounge the family used as a sitting room. It had a large display of framed family pictures, Dempsey couldn't remember looking at before. A few old black and white photo's of, what must have been, Harry's grandfather and great-grandfather. Posing on horseback, hunting rifle in hand. Some pictures were taken abroad. He saw a young lord Winfield in uniform. A wedding photo; he picked it up. At her house, Harry didn't have any family pictures downstairs. He vaguely remembered there were a few in her bedroom. However, the two times he had been in there, he had other things on his mind. He looked at the photo again. Harry _did_ look like her mother. She had inherited her father's blue eyes, but her face and smile resembled her mother's. Harry's mother had been a stunningly beautiful woman. Dempsey walked over to another cabinet. Recent pictures were displayed there. Pictures of Harry at different ages. He couldn't help chuckling. It was clear, she didn't like posing for photos. He recognised the steely look of determination, he'd seen so often. It was already present when she was a child. The last picture that caught his eye was a beautiful photo of a teenaged Harriet with her mother. Their faces close together, smiling broadly. Lord Winfield had been a lucky man.

By the time he returned after his drive, it was already late in the afternoon. Abbott pointed him toward the study, where Lord Winfield and his daughter were having a cup of tea.

"Ah, James. There you are! Have some tea. I hope you had an enjoyable day?"

"Yeah, very enjoyable."

Harry handed him a cup. He paused, looking at Harry.

"Maybe, we should discuss the reason we're here." Lord Winfield gestured to go on.

"Freddie, we're working on this case, and a familiar name came up. I think you might know the family." Harry began.

"Yes?"

"Hardy. Steven Hardy."

Lord Winfield leaned back in his chair.

"Yes, of course. They have a house in Kensington."

Harry nodded "Gilston road, yes." Dempsey took a seat next to her.

"I knew _Peter_ Hardy quite well. Good man. A Lieutenant General during the war. I did liaison work at the war office and I worked with him quite a bit." Lord Winfield took a sip from his tea. "After the war, we did some business. I invested in a few of his projects. All very satisfactory. Had a few nice dinners with him and his Mrs."

"Steven's his son, I presume?" Harry asked. "Can you tell me anything about him?"

"Peter and his wife had three children. Two daughters had already married and moved out of the house. I don't think I ever met them. The youngest was his son Steven." Lord Winfield paused. "Now, he was a tricky fellow."

"Tricky?" Dempsey sat up a bit straighter in his chair.

Harry gave her father a keen look.

"How?" She queried.

"He was still at university at the beginning of the war. They kicked him out at some point. Peter never commented on it, but I heard Steven blackmailed a couple of members of the board of governors. Nasty business."

"Nice guy." Dempsey remarked wryly.

"Not really. Peter did his best to involve him in the family business. Tried to straighten him out." Lord Winfield paused. "But there were rumours Steven did some shady dealings on the side." He stared out the window, not speaking for a couple of minutes.

"Peter died about ten years after the war. Steven still lived at his parents' house with his young family." Lord Winfield continued. "After Peter's death, he remained at the Kensington house, took control of the family business. After that, I never had any contact with the Hardy family. Apart from seeing them at certain social events."

"Hardy has kids?" Dempsey asked.

"Two children I think. A son and a daughter. That's all I know."

Harry brushed her hair from her face.

"Duffy might know a bit more." Lord Winfield said. "He's in business with a partner of Steven's. I'll ask him what he knows."

"Uncle Duffy? Hmm. He does have an interesting social network, doesn't he?" Lord Winfield gave Harry an enigmatic smile.

"He does indeed."

"That would be very helpful. Thanks, Freddie."

After a small supper, they settled in the lounge with a brandy. Pleasantly rosy from the brandy, Harry installed herself in the large armchair, with a book. She was happy her father and Dempsey got along so well. Somehow, it mattered. By the time she left the room to go to bed, the two men were still telling each other war stories.

Sunday morning breakfast was brought to his room. Lying on his bed, Dempsey surveyed the grounds while eating his toast and eggs. The weekend had been very enjoyable. Who would have thought he'd feel at home in a castle. That he'd get along with the English aristocracy. He took his time getting dressed. But it was still early when he walked down the stairs into the entrance hall. He didn't expect to find Harry there with her coat on, getting ready to go outside.

"Hi, good morning!"

"Good morning." She looked somewhat startled to see him.

It made him curious.

"You going out?"

"Just going for a walk." She was already halfway to the door.

"Mind if I tag along?"

Harry hesitated. For a minute he thought she'd say no.

"Hey, if you wanna be alone..."

She stared at her feet. Then she looked up at him.

"No it's fine, you can come along if you want."

It was a beautiful morning. Cool and crisp with a clear sky. Dempsey felt perfectly content walking next to Harry. Apart from the sound of the birds and the wind in the trees, the world was quiet.

They wandered through a piece of woodland and across a field. Occasionally, Harry pointed out wildlife to him. Eventually, they got to a gravel road running alongside a thick green hedgerow. Dempsey felt they had moved away from the castle making a wide circle around the estate. His eye on the sun, he knew they were now moving back towards the castle. Behind the hedgerows, he could make out something that looked like stones.

"Looks like a cemetery or something."

"It is. That's the old burial ground." Harry confirmed. "There are fourteenth-century graves here."

"Your ancestors?"

"Yes. When the current house was built, a new grave site was made. They stopped maintaining this one." She glanced over the hedgerow. "It's completely overgrown."

After about 200 yards the gravel road widened. A high stone wall replaced the hedgerow.. Harry pointed at the wall.

"This is the new grave site."

When she opened a gate in the wall, it dawned on Dempsey why they were there. And why she'd been reluctant to let him join her on her walk. Encircled by the stone wall, this graveyard was very well maintained. Two steps behind, Dempsey followed Harry as she moved towards a white marble gravestone. He walked past her to sit on a wooden bench close by. The name on the headstone confirmed his previous thought.

 _Lady Caroline Helena Winfield_

Harry left the gravestone and sat next to Dempsey. She remained silent for so long. He thought she wouldn't speak. Harry met his gaze.

"It was a silly accident. We were in the garden when she slipped. It had rained before, and the tiles were slippery. Mum fell backwards and hit her head on the stone tiles. I helped her get up. She was fine. She just laughed it off, and we went back inside." Harry paused, leaning back against the backrest of the bench. "After a few hours, she got a headache. She had trouble speaking and walking. Freddie called the doctor, and she was taken to hospital. By the time she got there, she was already comatose. An epidural haematoma. A build-up of blood putting pressure on the brain." Harry explained, subconsciously running her hand over her head.

"They operated on her, but the damage was already done." Then softly. "Mum died the next day."

Dempsey put his hand on Harry's leg, gently squeezing it, before pulling back his hand.

"You were what? Fifteen? Or..."

"I was sixteen." She took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. "It was a tough time. Making the arrangements, and the funeral. It was all a bit of a blur. Freddie found it very difficult to adjust to life without her." Harry shrugged, shaking her head. "It took him years to recover. He _still_ avoids the subject." She gave Dempsey a wry smile. "Sometimes, I think the only reason he kept on breathing was because of me. Yet, he was so heartbroken, even I couldn't reach him. Not those first years." Harry paused, looking down at her hands. "Going to university was almost a relief. To have different surroundings; focus on something else."

Dempsey caught the brief lopsided grin as she remembered.

"Ah, a few interesting stories there, I bet. Do tell, Makepeace!"

Harry made a face. "I don't think so, Dempsey."

Dempsey raised his hands in mock disappointment. She laughed.

"Let's just say, the second year I concentrated on the curriculum."

Dempsey waited for her to elaborate, but Harry didn't follow through on her story. He treasured those scant moments when she shared these details with him. He knew the important things that made up Harriet Makepeace. Certain parts of her life, she kept to herself. However, slowly but surely, bit by bit, Harry was giving up ground to him. He wondered how much she'd reveal.

Blue eyes stared at him.

"Dempsey?"

"Huh?"

Harry showed her watch.

"We should go back. We'll drive home after lunch."

"Yeah, fine." He remained seated for a few moments, then stood to follow Harry.

Monday morning, Spikings had his whole team together for a briefing on the current case. Spikings summarised: they had the names of the three main players. The team knew what these players were setting up, as well as the location.

"Other than that, we got nothing." Dempsey stated.

"Any ideas on how to move forward with the investigation?" Spikings looked around the room. "We have to be _very_ careful. It's imperative we are _not_ discovered investigating. If they get suspicious, we're buggered."

"We should keep an eye on the docks." Harry suggested.

"Yes." Spikings nodded. "It would be very helpful if we knew where the shipment is coming from."

"And when." Dempsey added.

"Right. Chas and Dave will do surveillance on Hardy; see what he gets up to. Fry and Watson are on Whelan. Makepeace? You and Dempsey can have a look at the docks." Spikings ended the briefing and went back to his office, leaving the door open.

"Hey, Chas. D'you remember if there was something like an office at the docks?" Dempsey asked.

"We only watched Whelan from a distance; I didn't want him to see us." Chas said. "But he spent at least an hour in this warehouse. It had a number painted on it. Warehouse five. Can't miss it."

"Thanks, Chas." Dempsey put on his coat, then motioned for Harry to come along.

"I haven't finished my coffee yet."

"Take it with you! Come on!"

Reluctantly, Harry got to her feet. A booming voice came from the Superintendent's office.

"Dempsey? You're not to be seen or heard! Do you understand? No gunfights please!"

"You know me, chief."

"Dempsey?"

Dempsey grinned. "I'll be as subtle as usual, boss."

Harry nearly choked on her coffee. Coughing, she glared at her partner, as if he was to blame for her predicament.

"Careful there, Sergeant. Come on." He pushed her towards the door, at the same time patting her on the back to help clear her throat.

There was little activity at the docks. A handful of men loading and unloading a ship. From where the car was parked, they had a good overview of the quay and the warehouses. Harry prodded Dempsey's arm.

"Over there." The warehouse was slightly smaller than the others. A large Five painted on it.

"Could be some sorta office, I guess." Dempsey proposed. "It's not in a convenient position for storage."

A man carrying a pile of folders entered warehouse five.

Dempsey and Makepeace nodded in agreement.

"Yep, office." Harry said.

The next hour they sat, taking in every detail of the dock. Mapping it out. Getting a feel for the place and the kind of people that worked there.

Eventually, Dempsey broke the silence.

"How 'bout I have a stroll around? Get a closer look." He gripped the door handle. "Better if I go alone. You'll stick out like a sore thumb over there."

"Thanks for that, Dempsey."

"Well, we don't wanna call attention to ourselves, do we?"

Dempsey stepped out of the car and walked towards the quay. Harry kept her eyes on the familiar frame of her partner. She knew how he would approach this. He pulled up the collar of his coat, staring straight ahead. Like he had every business being there. Again, his ability to fit in anywhere amazed her. First, he checked the large warehouses on the far left. He disappeared behind them. Harry picked him up again when he reached the quay. With purposeful steps, he walked the length of the pier. For a minute, he stopped and looked out over the water before making his way back to the warehouses. Dempsey waited for the right moment to get close to warehouse five. Harry watched Dempsey turn his head to the right and left. No one. Quickly, her partner made his way to warehouse five. Appearing as if he worked there, he passed the building. Then he changed direction again and came back to the car.

"There's one window on the side of the building." Dempsey recounted. "Definitely the place where they keep the papers."

Harry scoped the area. "Hmm."

"What?"

"It's not very busy is it?" She raised both her hands. "Just look… It's Monday morning."

Dempsey looked at the dock again and nodded slowly.

"Time to go back to the station, Makepeace. You need to get on your computer. Find out what company does business here."

"Fleetwood Shipping company." Harry read from her computer screen. "Never heard of it." Spikings rubbed his head, indicating the name wasn't familiar to him either.

"Hmm." Her fingers flew over the keyboard again. After a while Harry leaned back in her chair. "Fleetwood Shipping is owned by GSM Incorporated, which is owned by?" The smile was triumphant.

"… Hardy?" Dempsey guessed.

"Bingo."

"We'll tap his phone." Spikings sauntered back to his office. "I'll arrange that now. Good work."

Dempsey ruffled his hair. "So what now?"

"Maybe, the others have got something."

Surveillance on Whelan and Hardy didn't turn up anything. By the end of the week, the team felt a little discouraged with the lack of good leads. Dempsey and Makepeace had returned to the docks a couple of times, without results. Spikings mood deteriorated to the extent that the team did their best to avoid him. Friday afternoon, Dempsey, Chas and a few others decided to drown their disappointment with a pint or two at the pub. Harry excused herself as she had dinner plans with friends. She was looking forward to a weekend of doing absolutely nothing. Her good intentions went up in smoke when her father called on Saturday morning.

"Harriet, dear. Good morning."

"Freddie. This is a surprise."

"Just wanted to let you know I visited Duffy, yesterday. We had a nice meal, a good glass of red, and, afterwards, an even better glass of whisky." Freddie recounted.

"You talked to uncle Duffy?" Harry was intrigued.

"After a few glasses, Duffy is quite chatty."

"So, what did you chat about?"

"I asked about Hardy. I got the impression that Duffy didn't like him very much. Kept trying to change the subject. Said Hardy had his finger in all kinds of shady business."

"We already suspected that." Harry said. "Anything else?"

"Not sure. Duffy spoke to _Paul_ Hardy, recently. Or rather overheard him talking to somebody else."

"The son?"

"Yes. It seems that Paul was in Caracas, last month."

"Venezuela?" Harry fell quiet, thinking about the implications of what her father told her.

"Not sure if it's useful dear, but that's all Duffy told me."

"This is very useful daddy, thank you!" Harry hung up the phone, immediately picking it up again to dial Dempsey's number.

"Yo!"

"It's me."

"What's up?"

"Freddie just called."

"… New lead?"

"New lead."

"Shoot."

"Paul Hardy was in Caracas last month."

"Venezuela?"

"Yes."

 _Silence_

"Makepeace?"

"Mmm?"

"What are you doing tonight?"

"Dempsey, why do I get the feeling you're going to suggest we do something we're not supposed to do?"

The chuckles worried her.

"Put on something comfortable, babe. I'll pick you up at eight.

Dempsey pretended not to see the questioning look on Harry's face when she stepped into the Mercedes. She sunk back in her seat and Dempsey drove off. The deliberately nonchalant attitude annoyed Harry, but she knew better than to reward him with a reaction. She just breathed deeply and exercised patience. Humming along to a song on the radio, Dempsey navigated the car through the Saturday night traffic. Stoically, Harry gazed out the car window into the dark. As they got nearer, she guessed the destination. Dempsey drove past the empty parking lot at the dock, choosing a place further away to park. Out of sight. He switched off the engine and leaned back in his seat. "You ready?"

"Do you want to break into warehouse five?"

Dempsey answered with a confident grin. "Yep."

"You know, if this blows up in our face, Spikings is going to be _very_ unhappy." She gave Dempsey a stern look.

"Well, you can stay in the car if you want." He offered innocently, knowing Makepeace would never take him up on that.

"No way, Dempsey." Harry opened the door and stepped into the cold evening. Dempsey took two flashlights from the boot and gave one to Makepeace. He'd enjoyed keeping his partner in the dark about their mission. It was always fun to see whether she could contain her annoyance or if she'd make a remark, despite herself. Now that she knew what the plan was, he saw the determination on her face. Her focus on what he wanted them to do. It was a short walk to the docks. They crossed the parking lot. The dock seemed deserted. Quickly, they scanned the area. They exchanged a glance and a nod, then inched towards warehouse five.

Dempsey swore when they reached the door.

"Code lock. Damn!" He inspected the door. "We _could_ get in, but they'd know they had visitors."

"Perhaps, there's another way." Harry was already walking away from him. Dempsey caught up with her at the window.

"Not gonna work either, Harry. Not without it looking like somebody broke in."

Harry sighed. After completing their walk around the warehouse, they stood for a moment, uncertain of what to do next.

"So much for showing you an exciting evening, huh?" Dempsey quipped. "Although we could..." He quit speaking when he saw Harry's expression. "What?"

"Not sure." She gestured. "Come." When they arrived at the window, she pointed up at the ceiling. In the dark, they could make out a...

"Skylight!" Immediately, Dempsey jogged towards the pellets piled up against the warehouse. He climbed on top of the pellets. Then beckoned Harry to do the same. He offered his hand to help her up. The cool hand in his made him think of other things he wished to touch. He got part of his wish when he gave Harry a leg up. A second later she was on the roof. Harry stretched out her hand to help him onto the roof.

With the help of Dempsey's pocket knife, they opened the skylight. They lowered themselves onto the desk standing beneath it. Makepeace jumped off the desk. Carefully, Dempsey let the skylight fall closed again.

The large space was dimly lit through the skylight. Dempsey and Makepeace switched on the flashlights and methodically checked the room. Dempsey opened a few doors.

"This is the main office, for sure." He found the light switch but decided against turning it on. Better to use the flashlight.

"You can start over there. I'll take this one." Harry pointed at a large filing cabinet. Silently, they searched the cabinets. Taking care to replace the files and papers meticulously after reading them.

"Nothing." Dempsey mumbled, he moved on to the next cabinet. Harry sat down behind the desk and opened the top drawer.

"Hmm."

"What?"

"Have a look at this." Harry held up a folder. "This looks like a planning sheet."

Dempsey leaned over her shoulder, hands placed on either side of her. Resisting the urge to stroke her hair with his cheek, he brought her right index finger into focus.

"Look, this is February. Ports of origin, shipping companies, dates."

"Nothing from South America." Dempsey rubbed his chin.

Harry turned the page. "March..."

"Bingo." Dempsey gave Harry a nudge. "La Guaira, Venezuela"

"They haven't filled in the date, yet."

"No, but I bet that's it." Dempsey speculated. "They're arranging a shipment in March."

Harry scanned the papers for more clues. There weren't any. She put the paper back into the drawer and searched the other drawers. Dempsey sauntered around the room again, when he froze on the spot.

"Harry. Hide. Now!" Immediately, she moved. An instant reflex instigated by the urgency in his voice. Now she heard what Dempsey had sensed, a moment earlier. Harry switched off her flashlight, moving as far away from the desk as she could. Sliding down onto the floor, she hid behind a large cabinet. Dempsey rushed to open a sliding door close to him, accessing a small storage room. He switched off his flashlight and slid the door closed, leaving a small gap to peek through. At that moment, a door on the other side of the office opened. A second later, the room bathed in light. Dempsey only had a limited view, but he could see the desk. If he turned his head, he could also see Makepeace. He focussed on the desk. He recognised Whelan and Hardy standing next to it. Two burly men, Dempsey hadn't seen before, stood a little to the side. Muscle, he thought.

Hardy sat down behind the desk opening the drawer Makepeace had opened five minutes earlier.

"How are things on the other end?" Whelan asked.

"Going well, Paul arranged everything with Jimenez. Including the first payment. Jimenez will let me know when our order's complete and ready for shipment." Hardy answered, taking out the folder with the planning sheet. "Then we'll start planning the shipment's arrival and how to process it further."

"Toby can help us there."

Harry tried very hard to keep her breathing slow and steady. _Damn it, Dempsey._

Dempsey saw one of the burly men walking in his direction. Dempsey's eyes darted towards Makepeace. _Shit!_ Quietly, he lifted his gun from its holster, ready for use. The man took a few more steps. If he turned around, Makepeace would be discovered. She pushed her back against the cabinet, making herself as small as possible. Dempsey put his left hand on the sliding door handle. His plan of action already formed in his mind.

"Mike!" Hardy barked.

"Sir?"

"Come here. We're going."

"Yes, sir."

Dempsey released his breath when he saw Mike move away from Makepeace, back to his boss.

"I've got all the papers." Hardy told Whelan. "Let's go to the club. There are a few more things we need to discuss."

Dempsey saw the four men walk out the door. The room went dark. The men closed the door. Makepeace exhaled slowly, her head against the cabinet. She stayed where she was until she saw Dempsey's flashlight on her.

"That went well, huh?" Dempsey said, holding out his hand to help her up. Harry ignored the hand. She got to her feet, stretching her back. Switched on her flashlight and walked away from Dempsey. Without a word, she climbed on top of the desk.

"Yeah, better get outta here." He joined her on the desk, opened the skylight and helped Harry up on to the roof. She stared down at him, her anger was palpable. For a minute, he thought she was going to leave him there. Then she extended her hand. By the time they reached the car, she still hadn't uttered a word. He gave her a quick sideways glance, before starting the car. He decided to just leave her to brood. He knew he was in for a chastising over tonight's events. Dempsey suppressed a grin; he was already looking forward to it. Near Makepeace's house, Harry took a deep breath. _Here we go._ They exchanged a look. He couldn't hide his smile.

"Stop grinning. It's not funny, Dempsey. This could have been a disaster!" She started. With curt, impatient gestures, she rearranged her hair.

"Yeah, was close for a second there. That guy almost spotted you." Dempsey conceded.

"I wasn't worried about that. You would have stormed in and shot them all!" She scoffed. "How would we have explained that to Spikings, hmm? Four bodies. No warrant. The case blown! And even worse, the end of my career." She folded her arms in front of her. He gave her a mock-serious nod in return.

"Why do I always end up going along with your stupid, harebrained ideas?" She asked, throwing up her hands in exasperation.

"You know why, sweetheart." He said softly. "We get results."

Harry remained silent. He was right. Dempsey pulled into the driveway and killed the engine. "Probably best not to tell the boss it was such a close shave though." He grimaced. Harry hid her smile, but there was a sparkle in her eyes. Feeling her anger had dissipated somewhat, he wanted to delay saying goodbye.

"Hey, you wanna go and…" Dempsey began, but Harry interrupted him.

"I think I've had enough excitement for one night, thank you."

"There's no such thing as too much excitement, Makepeace." He leaned in. "I like it when you get excited." He leaned in a bit more. That intense look again; gauging her, enthralling her. She averted her eyes.

" _You_ need to come down from your adrenaline rush. And _I_ have to go inside." She stepped out of the car and with a "goodnight, Dempsey" she climbed the steps to her front door.

Harry walked into the living room and slumped into one of the armchairs. _Damn. Why does this have to be so complicated?_ When she was first paired with Dempsey, he mostly repelled her. With his chauvinistic remarks, his disparaging attitude towards her ability to do her job. When did that change? When did he begin to appreciate what she brought to the partnership? Relying on her as an equal partner? At what point did repulsion turn into attraction? Harry couldn't remember. _What do you want Harriet?_ She knew what she wanted. What she wanted was unacceptable to her. Dempsey was her colleague, her partner, her friend. She had everything to lose. _Just say no Harriet!_ The truth was, she had no idea how long she'd be able to sustain her resolve.

Dempsey stared in front of him, his hand on the ignition key. When he came to England and Harry became his partner, he had to admit, he was just making do. Provoking her amused him. Flirting amused him. Getting a reaction out of her amused him. Job wise, he didn't think she was in his league. Women weren't cut out for this kind of work. He couldn't remember when his opinion changed. When did she become an asset? When did it stop to matter at all? He would never have imagined it, but they managed to forge a formidable partnership as well as a friendship. He counted on her skills. He still flirted, of course. At the start of their partnership, he knew there was no way she would even consider giving into his flirtations. She was considering it now though. He felt it in every fibre of his body. She _cared,_ but she was conflicted.

 _What do you want James?_ He knew what he wanted. Smiling, he turned the ignition key. He had everything to gain. He'd tease her, but he was determined to be patient. How long he'd be able to sustain his resolve, Dempsey wasn't sure.

Monday morning, Dempsey and Makepeace added the findings from their Saturday evening break into the rest of the information. Spikings gave them a scolding for not following police procedure. But after the difficult previous week, Spikings had to admit. The information was very welcome. Even though the Superintendent wasn't sure his top duo had shared everything with him. Dempsey gave him his most innocent look. This confirmed it, of course, they _hadn't_ told him everything. Spikings decided to let this one slide. The fact was, he needed all the info they could get their hands on. This case was too big and the stakes too high.

"The tap on Hardy's phone hasn't turned up anything. Most of the arrangements he makes face to face." Spikings pointed at Chas. "Keep monitoring his phone calls, you never know." Chas raised his thumb.

"Sure Guv, makes sense."

"So, sometime in March."Spikings mused. "We also need to think about this Jimenez fellow. I'll contact the Foreign Office. See if they can find out anything."

"They need to be very careful. There's a lotta corruption over there."Dempsey warned. "We don't wanna alarm the wrong people."

"I'll make that clear when I speak to them." Spikings rubbed his head. "I think we should ease up on this case for now. Ease up on surveillance. The arrival of the shipment is more than six weeks away, and we don't want to be discovered. I _do_ want people at the docks every day, to keep an eye on things."

Spikings allocated tasks and cases to his team and ended the briefing. Chas and Dave were given the task of monitoring the docks that week. Spikings wanted Dempsey and Makepeace on stand-by, so he didn't assign them a new case. Instead, they would assist the rest of the team with their cases.

That week they only saw each other in the morning and in the hallway coming and going. Dempsey did some legwork for the murder case Watson and Fry were investigating. Makepeace spoke to a few informants to get leads on an extortion case. As well as clearing away administration that had piled up on her and Dempsey's desk. Makepeace declined Dempsey's invitation to go see a movie on Friday. She was going to the theatre with Angela. On Saturday, Dempsey was a part of Dave's stag night.

After the weekend Dempsey strolled into SI 10. After a late night on Saturday, he spent most of the Sunday vegetating in his bed, sleeping off his hangover. His first glance was at his partner's desk. Makepeace's chair was still empty. He poured himself a cup of coffee at the coffee counter.

"Hey, Dempsey. Recovered from Saturday?" A dishevelled looking Chas joined him at the coffee counter.

"I'm a lot better than yesterday." Dempsey smirked. "It was worth it though. Was a good night."

"Yeah." Chas took a sip from his coffee.

"You still look a bit rough."

"I had to go visit the in-laws, yesterday." Chas took another sip of coffee.

"I feel for ya, Chas." Dempsey patted him on the shoulder and sat down at his desk. Spikings walked in to brief the team. They all turned their attention to the Chief Superintendent.

"First of all, due to personal circumstances, Sergeant Makepeace is on leave. Indefinitely."

"Chief?" Spikings lifted his hand to silence Dempsey. "Later Dempsey. Briefing first." Spikings went over all the cases and gave directions where needed. He then motioned an impatient Dempsey into his office.

"What's going on?"

"Lord Winfield was in a car accident yesterday. Harry called me last night from the hospital." Spikings took out a cigarette. "It's not looking good."

Dempsey sat down in one of the chairs.

 _Harry..._


	2. Chapter 2

Grateful it wasn't that busy, Harry managed a fast exit out of London. She'd driven to the hospital as fast as she could. A sense of dread building in her stomach. When she arrived at the hospital her father had already been admitted to the intensive care unit. As she glanced over the monitors and ventilator, she flashed back to another night spent in a hospital. Gently, Harry squeezed her father's hand. He looked so fragile lying in his hospital gown, surrounded by the machines that were keeping him alive.

"Freddie, I'm here."

The doctor walked in to talk to her. Her father had been on his way back to Winfield Hall. A small lorry had neglected to give him the right of way. Severe head trauma, fractured ribs and pelvis, a collapsed lung and possibly other internal injuries.

"Is there any other next of kin?" The doctor asked. Harry nodded. "I think it's best to notify them now." She read the message in the doctor's eyes. Harry phoned her uncle, Winfield Hall and then Spikings to inform them, before taking her place next to the bed. Her uncle arrived within thirty minutes. She felt his hand on her shoulder.

"Harriet?"

"Uncle William." She stood up to hug him.

"How is Freddie?" William Winfield asked. All she could manage was a shake of her head. That night, Harry sat with her uncle at Freddie's bedside. In a vigil. Early the next morning, Lord Winfield succumbed to his injuries.

It was difficult to concentrate. Spikings gave Dempsey some desk work to do; he was merely shifting around piles of paper from one side to the other. Dempsey suppressed the urge to jump in his car to join Harry in hospital. It was not his place. He felt caged, but he didn't want to leave the office. Sometime in the afternoon, Harry called Spikings with the news of her father's death. When the phone rang, Dempsey listened in on the conversation.

"I'm sorry to hear that girl." Spikings eyed Dempsey. "… We'll talk in a couple of days." Spikings hung up the receiver and cleared his throat.

"Lord Winfield passed away this morning. Harry will be staying at Winfield Hall to make the funeral arrangements." Dempsey ran his hand through his hair. "She'll call you sometime this week." Spikings added.

Waiting made him feel inadequate and restless. Dempsey wasn't cut out for it. He preferred _doing_ something, and he _hated_ the fact that he couldn't do anything to help Harry now.

"Hi."

It was Wednesday evening when he heard Harry's voice on the phone.

"Harry?"

They were both quiet for some time.

"… I'm sorry, Harry. Your father was a good man. I liked him."

"Thank you." He heard her take a few deep breaths before she continued to speak. "The funeral is on Saturday. Spikings and Chas will be there. Perhaps you can drive up with them?" There was a slight hesitation in her voice.

"Tell ya what, why don't I drive up on Friday huh?"

"I'd like that." Another sigh. There was nothing more to say. "Well, I'll see you on Friday then."

"Yeah."

Winfield Hall was as imposing as ever. A resident of the castle had passed away. Yet, the walls remained standing as they had for centuries. Abbott greeted him at the door. Dempsey shook the man's hand.

"My condolences, Abbott."

"Thank you, sir." Abbott reached out for Dempsey's luggage, but Dempsey took hold of his suitcase. "That's okay, Abbott. I'm sure you got better things to do. Same room as last time?"

"Yes, sir. Lady Harriet will be occupied the rest of the afternoon. Preparations for tomorrow, of course." Abbott clarified. "Lady Harriet will join you for dinner in the lounge, later. I will ask Mary to bring some tea to your room, first."

"Thanks."

With the arrangements being made for the funeral, Dempsey didn't feel comfortable strolling around the castle. The ground floor was being cleaned. Chairs put in place in the great hall. Food delivered to the kitchen. He didn't want to stay in his room. Instead, he went for a walk around the grounds. When dusk set in, he made his way to the lounge. A fire crackled in the fireplace. He chose an aperitif from Lord Winfield's bar and was pouring himself a small glass when Harry walked in. Straight to one of the large armchairs next to the fireplace. She covered her face with her hands as she sank into the chair. Dempsey poured a second glass, walked over to sit in the other chair and put the two glasses on the side table. Harry let her head fall sideways to look at him.

"Thank you, for coming."

"You look tired."

"I _am_ tired."

"Bearing up?"

"Barely." She gave him a weak smile. "I've just lost my father, and I get to organise this whole production."

There was a knock on the door. Abbott entered the room with their dinner. She took the serving tray and placed it on her knees. Dempsey did the same with his.

"Lady Harriet, will there be anything else?"

"No, thank you, Abbott. Goodnight" She watched Abbott leave the lounge. "I told him earlier he was off duty." She shook her head. "He keeps going."

Harry turned her attention to the plate of food; examining it with a look of aversion.

"You oughta eat something" Dempsey took a spoonful of the pasta. "It's nice."

"I know." She picked up her spoon and fork and dutifully took a bite. They ate quietly, or rather he ate. Harry moved her food around the plate with her fork. Only eating when he raised an eyebrow at her. She was restless; shifting her position, hands fidgeting. Finally, she put the tray on the floor. Harry reached for the glass on the side table, drinking its content in one swallow.

Dempsey took a sip from his glass studying Harry's pale face.

"You sleep at all?"

"I'm too wound up to sleep. I went for a long walk this morning. That usually calms me down." She shifted her position once again. "I don't know, I can't seem to relax." She waved a hand towards the bottles in her father's bar. "I feel like drinking one of those." Harry saw the doubt expressed on Dempsey's face. "Don't worry, I won't." She grimaced. "I can't attend my father's funeral with a hangover."

"How 'bout I read something to you?" Dempsey stood up to study the titles on the bookshelves.

"What do you want to read to me?"

Dempsey picked a book off the shelf.

"Shakespeare?" He showed her. "That's not gonna sound right, is it?" He made a face.

Harry managed a small chuckle.

"Mark Twain, Adventures of Tom Sawyer." He held up the book. "Huh?"

"Sure." Harry pulled her legs under her, leaning sideways in her chair. Dempsey sat down, putting his feet up on the footstool. He cleared his throat and began to read. Head resting against the backrest, Harry gazed at her partner. It was hard to concentrate on the words. Instead, she basked in the low, soothing sound of his voice. After three chapters he closed the book. She was still fidgeting. According to the clock on the mantelpiece, it was nine o'clock.

"Why don't you take a warm bath or something and then try to get some sleep?"

"Yeah," Harry reached out, holding his hand for a minute. "Thanks." She squeezed his hand, let go, and lifted herself out of the chair.

"No problem. 'Night." He stayed in the lounge for a while. The fire was dying. With a sigh, he stood. Dempsey put the book back on the shelf and went up to his room. After a shower, he settled on the bed in his bathrobe. It was nearly ten, and he wasn't tired yet. The New York Times lay on the nightstand. He hadn't had the chance to read it yet. Scanning the front page, he hoped Harry managed to get some rest.

The soft knock on the door made him look up from the sports section. Dempsey eased off the bed. Hair still damp, Harry stood on his doorstep.

"Hey."

"Hi." She hesitated a moment, before stepping past him.

"Bath didn't help?"

She stood in the middle of the room, rolling back her shoulders to loosen the muscles.

"I just can't settle down." She bounced lightly from one foot to the other. "I don't know. I want to cry, but I can't." Her eyes flew from her hands to the window, to him and back to her hands. "Everything feels tense. And I have no idea how I'll be able to function tomorrow if I don't get some sleep." She paused, rolling back her shoulders again.

"I need help to relax." It was almost inaudible, she'd spoken so softly. As Harry held his gaze, Dempsey realised why she was there.

"Harry..." His voice trailed.

She came to stand in front of him. A tentative hand reached for the tie of his bathrobe. Harry untied the knot, a small frown on her face. Unable to move, Dempsey tried to process what was happening. Harry slid the robe off his shoulders and dropped it on the nearby chair. She untied her robe next. He'd fantasised about this moment for a long time, but _Now? Like this? She's burying her father tomorrow!_ Her bathrobe joined Dempsey's on the chair, leaving her facing him in her underwear.

"Harry?"

She raised her eyes to meet his, then down again to her hands her attention now on his t-shirt. Automatically, he raised his arms as she pulled the t-shirt over his head. Harry lowered her hands, his t-shirt in her right hand. He wasn't sure if it was wise to accommodate her _or_... Her left hand grazed his back on its way down; it ended up on the waistband of his pants. _Or._ The soft touch of her hand made him forget about the alternative. He reached up to hold her head in his hands and leaned in to kiss her. Her smell invading his senses, he gently caressed her mouth. Her lips parted to meet him. He tilted his head to press his lips more firmly on hers; deepening the kiss. She had to break away a few times, trying to control her ragged breath coming in irregular gasps. Determined, Harry placed her mouth on his again. Her movement erratic, Dempsey felt restless hands alternatively stroking his back, then firmly gripping his waist. He kept his moves deliberate and calm, allowing her time to manage the tension in her body. His hands travelled down towards the hem of her top, pulling it upwards. The top fell to the floor. Harry's fingers crept underneath the waistband of his pants, pulling them down. Dempsey did the same with her panties. As Harry stepped clear of the garment, he swallowed hard at the view of her naked body. _Easy James._ A deep breath to constrain his arousal. Harry stepped forward, boldly pressing her slender frame against his. Arms wrapped tightly around his neck, Dempsey registered the resolve in her eyes. She shivered as he enveloped her in his arms to kiss her properly. The light probing and tasting combined with her uneven breath on his lips. He took a step back, felt the bed with his leg. An arm around her waist he lifted her off the floor while his other arm supported their weight as he transferred them unto the bed.

Dempsey didn't want to risk waking the sleeping figure lying curled up against his chest. His left arm was sleeping; he needed to move. Carefully, he shifted his position. His right hand ended up on Harry's bare belly. Deep, regular breathing reassured Dempsey she was still sound asleep. A couple of hours, he'd dozed. Dempsey was wide awake now, appreciating where he was and with whom. Many times, he thought about what it would be like. This was not what he envisioned. Passion and lust were not the words he'd use to describe what happened earlier. Under the circumstances, it wouldn't have been appropriate to engage in a frenzy.

 _Sex as a relaxation exercise_. It had been easier than he imagined to curb his fervour. Harry's body relaxed under his hands. They found a slow, almost lazy rhythm that suited them both. Somehow, this controlled arousal was incredibly intimate. He learned she was an active bed partner. Her hands and lips moved purposefully over his body; assessing his reaction and adjusting her touch accordingly. Despite her control, he never sensed reserve. Afterwards, Harry left the bed to go to the en-suite. Dempsey stared at the ceiling, unsure whether she'd return to the bed or go back to her room. The bed seemed empty without her. When she reappeared, she climbed back onto the bed. The circular motion she made with her finger indicated she wanted to lie with her back against him. On his left side, he opened his arms, creating room for her to cuddle up to him. A glance over her shoulder. Their eyes locked in a gaze that seemed to last forever, but in truth only lasted a few seconds.

 _I know._ An arm around her, he drew her close. Dempsey kissed the soft skin of her shoulder.

S _leep._ Within a minute, she did.

There was a clock on the bedside table on Harry's side. He raised his head. Two thirty. Harry moved in her sleep. As she did so, he gathered her tighter into his arms. When he nodded off again, he couldn't help thinking she belonged there.

The water was warm and soothing. Harry bathed her skin, thinking about the day ahead. Her uncle would arrive early that morning. Even though everything was in place. They'd go over the details of the ceremony one last time. There was a specific protocol to these events, but they'd devised a service that fitted Freddie's character. She smiled wistfully. Her father had never been all that bothered about protocol. She also wanted to talk to Abbott to make sure everything else was in order. The water fell on her face like rain. The sensation calmed her. Harry felt better than the days before, and she breathed freely. She was grateful she'd slept well. Then she remembered why. When she left the bed, Dempsey was fast asleep. _So much for resolve._ Did she regret it? _No_. There was a brief moment when she thought he might stop her, but he sensed her mood and went with it. Merely focusing on the physicality of what they were doing. She welcomed the touch of his hands. They reminded her of the water that was now finding its way naturally along her body. Warm, flowing, effortless. She'd have to deal with the implications at some point; next time, he'd want _a lot_ more from her.

 _Next time?_

Harry pushed the notion from her mind. There were more pressing matters to deal with. Today, and in the weeks to come. The will, paperwork, her father's personal belongings, the estate. Spikings allowed her a few weeks leave to sort everything out. She closed her eyes. Less stressed, but it made the dull feeling of pain in her heart all the more noticeable. Harry leaned with her forehead against the shower-wall, and for the first time since that fateful phone call, tears came.

Dempsey found Harry in the kitchen. Several members of the staff sat at the large table for breakfast.

"Good morning Mr Dempsey." Mrs Evans, who ran the kitchen, greeted him. Harry was at the kitchen counter about to pour herself another cup of tea. Normally, she wouldn't have breakfast here. Today was not a normal day. Dempsey didn't know what to expect, but she met his gaze directly, passing on the awkwardness.

"Morning." She motioned to a chair. "We're just having breakfast. Help yourself." He sat down next to Mrs Evans, who smiled at him benignly. Not that she understood the strange American, but he was polite enough. Harry filled her teacup, then poured coffee into a mug and put it in front of Dempsey. Harry sat down opposite Mrs Evans to finish the fruit she was eating. Dempsey buttered two pieces of toast.

"So, how many people you expecting today?"

Harry looked at Mrs Evans. "Well, three hundred for the service."

"A few more, I think." Mrs Evans remarked.

"It's going to be a long day." Harry put jam on a piece of toast. Dempsey was glad to see her eating, and that she seemed to have regained her composure. She appeared ready for today.

"Lady Harriet?" Abbott entered the kitchen. "Your uncle has arrived."

"Thank you, Abbott. I'll be right there." Harry finished her tea, then got up to greet her uncle. Lightly touching Dempsey's shoulder as she walked past him.

The day _was_ a big production, as Harry had put it. He met Harry's uncle: William Winfield. A kind man, who resembled his older brother. Dempsey also spoke briefly to Angela and greeted a few other friends of Harry's he'd met before. The service had nice personal touches. It complemented Harry's father. Dempsey spent most of the day with Spikings and Chas, taking in everything from the back. When Harry, her uncle and a few other relatives returned from the family burial ground, the guests had the chance to offer their condolences. There were so many people there, Dempsey didn't get a chance to talk to Harry. When Spikings and Chas announced they were leaving, he decided to go as well. Dempsey managed to make eye contact, and from a distance, he gestured he was leaving. Harry nodded, indicating she'd call.

The next couple of weeks, Dempsey immersed himself in his work; a complicated murder case, together with Watson. Watson was a good detective, but the cooperation wasn't as smooth as it was with Harry. Still, they got lucky. As a result of a useful tip, they managed to make an arrest. There were no new leads in the Hardy case and the Foreign Office hadn't been in touch with Spikings, yet. In the meantime the team watched the docks. The detectives, including Dempsey, took turns doing surveillance. Both Whelan and Hardy showed up, regularly. However, the team had no clue about the exact date of the shipment. He'd driven by her house a few times. The white escort wasn't in the driveway and Harry didn't call. It had been two weeks since the funeral. Chas persuaded him to go to a soccer- _football, he corrected himself_ -match on Saturday. He liked baseball better, but they had a great afternoon with a meal and beer afterwards. The phone rang when he opened the door.

"Yo!"

"Dempsey?"

"Hey. How's it going?"

"I'm busy. There's a lot to sort through. Freddie's solicitor is executing the will. We're going over all the assets to see what needs to be done with them. And then there's Winfield Hall of course."

"You gonna live there now?"

"I don't think so, Dempsey. Freddie actually did a lot of the work for us. He made arrangements for a lot of his assets, including Winfield Hall."

"Oh?"

"I think he knew I wasn't going to live there. Not in the foreseeable future anyway. You have to be there if you want to manage the estate properly. He and my uncle agreed that in the case of Freddie's death, William would move into Winfield Hall. That way I'd have more time to consider my options."

"Sounds like a reasonable solution."

"I think so. Still, it's going to be months before the will is going to be executed, completely."

"So, when will you be back?"

"I'll be here for another week, tying up loose ends. After that, it's work for the solicitor."

"I think I can manage one more week without you."

"It's strange, being here. I keep expecting to hear his voice." She sounded flat, and Dempsey didn't quite know what to say. "I'll be glad to be home again."

"Yeah."

"See you on Monday?"

"You bet… Harry?"

"Mmm?"

"Hang in there, huh?"

"I am."

That week went by a lot quicker than the previous two weeks. The thought of Harry coming back to work was uplifting. Dempsey had to admit he had no idea how she would deal with their night. On job related issues, Harry was very forthright. He knew Harry well enough to know she wouldn't take a direct approach here. Would she even acknowledge it happened? Dempsey decided he would let her take the lead for now; she was still grieving. Sooner or later, he'd take action regardless, because he wanted more, _much_ more.

A ball of energy walked into the SI 10 office on Monday morning. Straight to the coffee counter.

"I feel fine! So fine!" Dempsey belted.

"You mind turning it down a notch, Dempsey?" Spikings barked from his office.

"Sure, boss!" Dempsey hummed. "I feel fine! So fine!" Behind his desk, he put up his feet. "What's with the good mood?" He pointed his thumb at the Chief Superintendent's office.

"Gordon's expecting a call from the Foreign Office." Chas replied.

"Great! We could use a break in that case."

"Makepeace!" Chas stood to greet Harry.

"Morning, Chas." Harry took the Sergeant's hand and allowed him to kiss her on the cheek.

"Glad you're back."

"It's good to be back." Harry dropped her bag on her desk, her eyes on Dempsey. "Good morning."

"Hey." Her gaze was candid. He met it with a smile.

From her bag, she pulled an apple and her lunch. Dempsey poured her a cup of coffee.

"Thanks." She took a sip. "What are we doing today?"

At that moment, the phone rang in Spikings' office.

"Hopefully, the boss is gonna get some useful info from the Foreign Office."

"The Hardy case?"

"Yep. Still no clues about the date of the shipment." Dempsey twirled his pen between his fingers.

"We might make some progress there." Spikings came out of his office. "I just spoke to my contact at the Foreign Office. I want you two to go over there now. Ask for Miles Rutherford. He has information for us." Spikings turned on his heel, back to his office. Halfway, he halted to face Harry.

"Good to have you back, Sergeant."

"Thank you, sir." Spikings nodded gruffly and disappeared into his office.

They went down the stairs of the SI 10 building towards the exit. Harry took a seat behind the wheel of her Escort. Dempsey took the passenger seat. She put the key into the ignition, then leaned back in her seat. Harry suspected Dempsey would confront her about their night. Not now, but at some point. She needed mental stability for that confrontation. The whole thing was too big and Dempsey too fierce. It would be like jumping off an aeroplane without a parachute. The aftermath of her father's death still dominated her life. If he pushed her on their relationship now, she'd have no choice but to push him away. She wanted some sense of control back before she could consider letting go of it again.

"Do you mind if we go on as normal?" Her fingers gripped the wheel. "…For now." Harry added softly. To Dempsey's ear, it sounded like something close to a promise.

"Sure, no problem."

Harry's relief was almost tangible when she turned on the engine of her white Ford and drove out of the car park.

On the way to the government building, Dempsey informed Harry about the progress the team had made on the Hardy case. Harry was grateful for the chit-chat, and by the time they arrived at their destination, she felt at ease sitting next to Dempsey again.

Miles Rutherford was a soft-spoken, grey-haired man, in his forties. He presented Dempsey and Makepeace with a grey folder. It contained information their attaché in Caracas had collected. It turned out, the attaché was diligent and thorough.

"Manuel Jimenez is a very enterprising man. He heads a small but significant drug syndicate in Caracas. He buys his stuff from different producers. Then he ships the various orders out from La Guaira. Jimenez uses a large shipping company." Rutherford checked the folder. "VEZ Cargo shipping services. We think he has men on the inside, working there. When they ship coffee or cocoa, they hide the drugs inside the cargo. He has an extensive network of clients. Both in the United States and in Europe. Very lucrative business, the man is a multi-millionaire."

"What about the shipment that's heading our way?" Dempsey queried.

"Well, our attaché is sure they are working on something. It looks like Jimenez is going to ship in the next couple of weeks."

"It would be useful if we knew when the shipment leaves the harbour, Mr Rutherford." Makepeace said.

"I understand that, Sergeant." Rutherford smiled. "My man in Caracas is keeping an ear to the ground."

"Discretely, I hope."

"He is very discrete, Lieutenant. He's worked in South America for years." Rutherford replied primly. "He is well aware of the dangers of being too nosy over there. As soon as I hear from him, I'll let you know."

"Your guy's done great work." Dempsey took the folder from Rutherford and shook the man's hand. "Thank him for us, if you get a chance."

"I will. Have a good day Lieutenant. Sergeant."

Dempsey and Makepeace left the office.

"Great. Now we're getting somewhere!" Dempsey nudged Harry with the folder.

"Yep, let's report back to the Chief."

More and more pieces of the Hardy case fell into place, and Spikings' mood improved significantly. "Good to know we've got decent people working at the Foreign Office and overseas." Spikings paced the SI 10 office. "Very good to know indeed." He raised a pompous finger at Dempsey. "British thoroughness, Dempsey! Take note of that!"

Dempsey sought Harry's eyes. A mischievous gleam in her eye, she made a writing motion with her hand.

"Take note." She mouthed silently.

"It's a revelation, sir." He said equitably.

"Hmm." Spikings grunted. "We'll stick to monitoring the docks. Be on the look-out for VEZ Cargo shipping. Just in case we don't hear from Rutherford."

"Chief?"

"Dempsey?"

"Any ideas on how we're gonna intercept the shipment?"

"When it's time for action we will be careful, prudent and resolute, Dempsey!" Spikings stated, midway to his office.

"And thorough!" Dempsey stated innocently. Harry suppressed a snort.

"Exactly!" Spikings scowled, standing in the doorway. "Get back to work!"

"Not sure I don't like grumpy Spikings better." Dempsey opened the folder, while Harry sat down on his desk.

"Alright. Jimenez is going to ship a load of cocoa or coffee to London, hiding the cocaine somewhere inside the cargo. Hardy and Whelan will receive the shipment at the docks." She summarised. Her smile had disappeared. There was a frown of concentration on her face as she considered their options.

"If Spikings wants to catch them red-handed, our timing's gotta be perfect." He noted.

Harry nodded in agreement. "Do we intervene the minute the ship arrives, or are we going to let them unload?"

"Depends on how much muscle Hardy's gonna have there. How they wanna unload the ship. How they're gonna move the cargo. A lot of variables there."

She stared at him, incredulously. "Do you want to play it by ear?"

Dempsey laughed at his partner's predisposition to plan ahead.

"Nah, just saying we may have to improvise."

Harry threw her hands up in resignation.

Harry drove home after work. Things were going reasonably well. Dempsey took everything in his stride, and by the end of the day, they'd settled back into their usual routine. She was grateful Dempsey kept his distance, physically. Her head was doing a good job putting their sexual encounter to the side, for the moment. Her body had a mind of its own. Harry walked up the steps to her house. She left her bag on the entry table and stepped into the lounge. Winfield Hall was lovely, but she was glad to be home. Standing in her cosy lounge, she smiled. Her furniture, her books, her piano, her things. This was _her_ place. After she left her ex-husband, she rented an apartment. She married too soon. Had her mother still been alive, she probably wouldn't have hurried into marriage, as young as she did. _Hindsight is always twenty-twenty._ Her parents enjoyed each others company. They treated each other with love and respect. In her final year at the Police Academy, she realised her own marriage lacked the harmony and equality that characterised her parents' union. Harry moved in with Angela for a while until she found a decent place to rent. After entering the Police force, this house came up for sale. She fell in love with it. With the help of a sizeable bequest her grandfather had left her, she was able to purchase the house. Harry revelled in her new existence. Living the life of a single woman in her new home. Loving the job, she knew she was good at. Enjoying the company of the occasional boyfriend: Tom, Julian…

The small stack of papers on the piano interrupted her thoughts. Her father's solicitor would visit her tonight to go over them. A few more sessions and the paperwork would be done. Next week Harry had to find time to clear out the last of her father's things, at Eaton Square.

"First things first." She mumbled. Something to eat.

By the end of the week, Spikings returned to his usual short-tempered self. Rutherford hadn't called, and Spikings was getting edgy. Heckling the Superintendent became Dempsey's favourite pass-time "Boss? Heard from Rutherford, yet?" In a serious tone. Not too often to make Spikings suspicious. But often enough to be annoying.

"Not yet, Dempsey. Not yet!"

"That Rutherford better call soon, Chief!"

"I know, Dempsey. Patience! Patience!"

"We need some of that British thoroughness, sir!" Dempsey called from behind his desk.

"Dempsey!" Spikings bellowed. "Shut up!"

Harry threw a crumpled paper ball at his head. A grin on his face, Dempsey raised his shoulders. They'd come up with a few ideas on how to handle the situation when the shipment arrived. How they would position themselves at the docks. How many people they'd need. The rest of their time Dempsey had spent helping Watson and Fry, while Harry helped Chas with an administrative task. For once, he was glad they weren't on a case together. It was easier to keep his mind off Harry that way. She walked by his desk for a cup of tea. Even though she was quieter than usual, she was holding up remarkably well, considering everything that had to be dealt with. A little patience was a small price to pay. He watched her walk back to her chair. His eyes lingered on the skirt that hugged her… Dempsey tore away his gaze. The frustration building in his body was affecting his mood. He ruffled his hair. _Great._ He resigned himself to another cold shower.

"The Santa Teresa left La Guaira, last Wednesday." Spikings announced. "Apparently, there was a communication problem between Venezuela and London. Rutherford called me this morning. There's coffee and corn on board, and Hardy's special order, of course."

"How long's it gonna take for the ship to cross the ocean?" Dempsey calculated in his head. "Fifteen days? Sixteen?"

"Fourteen to eighteen days, depending on the weather before the Santa Teresa reaches London." The Superintendent said. "That leaves us eight to twelve days to prepare."

"Is the ship's position being monitored?" Makepeace asked.

"It is. As the ship gets closer, we'll have a good idea when it's going to reach our shores."

"Whelan has been at the docks a lot, lately. Toby Watts as well." Dave added. "They spend most of their time at the large warehouse near the quay."

Dempsey raised an eyebrow at Harry, a lopsided grin on his face.

"No!" Harry mouthed

Spikings eyed Dempsey.

"Don't get any funny ideas, like trying to break in there, Dempsey. No risks at this point!"

"Whatever you want, Boss." Dempsey acquiesced.

"Perhaps, they'll use the warehouse to store the cargo once they've offloaded it." Spikings mused. "Will they keep everything there? Will they move the drugs somewhere else? We'll need to think about that."

Dempsey observed Harry from the corner of his eye. Stifling a yawn, Harry stared outside. She seemed miles away, a wearied look on her face. Slowly, she rubbed her forehead. With one stroke of her hand, Harry pushed her hair from her face and focused on Spikings again.

Dempsey turned his attention back to Spikings.

"The cargo's gonna be inspected by customs first, right? Good way to get on the ship, maybe?"

"Good idea, Leftenant. I'll contact customs. A man onboard will be handy."

Dempsey spent the afternoon and part of his evening staking out the docks. Spikings wanted round the clock surveillance now. The team took turns doing six-hour shifts. Dempsey started his shift at two. At eight o'clock, Dave tapped on the window of the Mercedes. Dempsey rolled down the window.

"Anything?" Dave asked.

"Nope. Whelan left at five. Nothing else."

"Have a good evening, Dempsey."

"Yeah. Thanks, Dave. You too."

Dempsey drove off. He intended to go home, but somehow he ended up driving into Eaton Square. Through the gated fence, he could see the white Escort parked in front of the large white house. Dempsey parked his car and walked towards the house. For a minute, he dawdled at the gate. His instinct had told him to come here. He was used to listening to it. He stepped towards the door and rang the doorbell. Harry appeared in the entry hall. He lifted his hand in a wave. Briefly, she lingered.

She opened the door. "Hi, what are you doing here?"

"Just finished the stakeout. Thought I'd come and see if you need a hand."

Her blue eyes glistened like she'd been crying. Harry motioned for him to come through. Dempsey followed her into the large lounge. A single lamp lit the room. Plastic protectors covered the furniture. The art and photos had been taken off the wall. An open cardboard box stood on the floor. Harry had been sorting through the papers and books lying next to it.

"Angela gave me a hand over the weekend. I'm almost done here. If you want to help, you can carry a few boxes downstairs for me." She pointed to the left side of the room. "Put them over there. That stuff is intended for Winfield Hall." She motioned toward the right side of the room. "The rest of it is going to stay here. To be sold separately, or together with the house." Harry wiped away a tear.

"You okay?"

"It's been so hectic the past few weeks, just getting things done." She gestured toward the box. "Tonight's been the first chance I had to look at my father's personal things." A few more tears escaped. She blinked them away and wiped her cheeks with the flat of her hands.

"I miss him." She said simply.

Dempsey managed to resist the urge to step over the line Harry had drawn, the week before. He wanted to wrap his arms around her, but he found the willpower to stay put. They would deal with 'them' another time.

"I'll get those boxes downstairs."

Harry sat on the floor leafing through a notebook when Dempsey put down the last box.

"What's that?"

"Travel journals." She closed the book and reached for a photo album. "Photos… more photos." She handed Dempsey a photograph of Lord Winfield.

"Taken on a trip to Asia." Dempsey joined her on the floor, sitting on the other side of the box. "Would you like something to drink?" Harry stood and walked towards one of the window sills.

"Sure."

"I have fruit juice." She took the bottle from the window sill and showed him.

"Juice?"

"Too healthy for you, Dempsey?" She smiled at his look of disgust. She poured two cups. "It's yellow Dempsey, pretend it's beer."

She watched him take a sip and waited for his reaction. Dempsey shook his head at her amused expression.

"I'm gonna suffer in silence, Makepeace."

Laughing Harry reached for the box again.

"Another travel journal. A notebook." She thumbed through it, reading certain passages. Dempsey picked up one of the pictures lying on the floor.

"Harry?"

"Mmm?"

She smiled wistfully at the photo of herself and her father.

"Yeah, it ain't easy. Still, miss _my_ old man, and he's been gone for almost ten years."

"He was sick wasn't he?"

"Yeah, liver cancer. Booze finally caught up with him." He gave Harry a quick glance. "He was a quiet drinker. Drowned his worries in the bottle, instead of talking 'bout it." Dempsey ruffled his hair. "S'pose the stunts me and my brothers pulled didn't help either." He sat still for a minute, then started laughing.

"Real terrors, weren't you?"

"Yep. I ever tell you the mountain climbing story?"

"No." A tentative smile appeared on her face. "Mountain climbing in New York?"

"Yeah. See, me and Mike were at a friend's house once, and we saw this programme on TV about mountain climbing." Dempsey stretched out his legs in front of him, settling into his story. "I think Mike was nine. I was eight or something. Anyway, it looked amazing to us." He got a faraway look in his eye. "Dangerous, adventurous."

Harry chuckled over the rim of her cup. "I bet."

"So we thought we'd try to become mountain climbers too."

"Mmm."

"We got all the material together. Rope 'n stuff, even found some carabiners somewhere. Made a harness and everything. Then we needed a guinea pig."

Harry leered at Dempsey.

"Don't tell me. Your younger brother?"

"Yep."

"How old was he?"

"Three. We were living in this apartment building at the time. So, we hoisted him in the harness, and lowered him down the balcony."

"No! How high?"

"Third floor." Dempsey was laughing out loud now.

"Oh, my God!"

"One of the downstairs neighbours ran upstairs to my mother, cause she saw Adam dangling in front of her window, smiling and waving at her."

He loved the way Harry's face transformed as she gave in to spontaneous, uninhibited laughter. He sat transfixed for a moment admiring how beautiful she was, before resuming his story.

"My father nearly busted his gut, when he heard. We couldn't sit down for a week." He threw his hand in the air. "That was the end of our mountain climbing careers."

The evening flew by. Harry studying pictures. Dempsey sharing his anecdotes. Harry laughing at his expression of disgust as he drank his juice. The whole thing was therapeutic. Her heart felt lighter than it had in weeks. Being inside, they had no idea of the weather outside. For once Harry was grateful for the rain and cold. A fierce wind disturbed their companionable gathering when she opened the front door. It made their goodbye on the doorstep quick and less awkward than it could have been. Dempsey muttered a few expletives about London weather, pulled up his collar and headed back to his car.

The closer the ship came to London, the more excited the atmosphere became at the station. There was a definite increase in activity at the docks. And sure enough, after fifteen days at sea:

"The Santa Teresa should arrive sometime tomorrow." Spikings announced to the team. "Someone from the Thames Division is positioned downriver to warn us when the ship passes." He pointed at Dempsey. "Dempsey will join a team of customs officers who will inspect and asses the cargo." He leaned over the detailed map of the docks. "The rest of the team will take up their positions, the way we agreed." His index finger flew over the map, indicating the different places. "Make sure you get a good night's sleep people. It's on, tomorrow!"

Dempsey leaned back. He hadn't looked at the map. Every detail of the dock was in his head. Sighing, he shifted in his chair. They'd worked towards this for weeks with plenty of time to think and plan. He didn't like having too much time before an intervention. It interfered with the instinctive way he worked. It was easier to adapt to changing circumstances with an empty mind, clear senses and no preconceived ideas in his head. He fiddled with his pen, clicked it then put it down again.

"I really don't think we've _over_ analysed this, Dempsey." Harry zipped up her coat, eyeing him carefully. Dempsey thought about what she said and nodded. She smiled back at him and shouldered her bag.

"See you tomorrow."

The Santa Teresa was moored at the docks. A small freighter, she still managed to look large. The team waited in a large van parked some distance away from the dock. Dempsey had arrived earlier in his Mercedes. He'd joined the customs officers. The mood was one of quiet anticipation, as the members prepared for what lay ahead. They retied shoelaces and checked guns. The map of the docks passed between the team members. Chas was positioned outside near the pier. He had a clear view of the Santa Teresa.

"Goldfish 5 to Charlie 3, come in please."

"Charlie 3 to Goldfish 5, what's going on, Chas?" Spikings spoke in the handset.

"Dempsey has boarded the ship about half an hour ago, over."

"Copy that, Chas."

"Watts just parked his car. He's walking towards warehouse five now."

"Hardy?"

"No sign of him yet, Guv."

"Thanks, Chas. Over and out." Spikings put the radio to the side. Whelan was already at the docks. He'd disappeared into warehouse five, a couple of hours before. The man hadn't been seen, since.

Wearing jeans and a warm jumper, Harry sat in her seat. Supple leather gloves lay in her lap for later. Occasionally, she stretched her legs and rolled her shoulders to loosen her muscles. Her heart was beating a little faster than normal, but her mind was clear. She felt calm. Covertly, Harry observed each member of the team. How did they look? Were they fit for action? A habit she'd picked up from Dempsey.

"If a member of the team ain't ready, it can be fatal, Harry. Spot weaknesses. Know who you can count on." The team was ready. Harry turned her focus inward again.

The door of the van opened. Dempsey stepped in.

"Customs didn't find any irregularities. They're cleared for offloading. Gonna start in about half an hour." He took off the customs jacket and grabbed his coat off one of the seats. "Twelve crew, coffee and corn in large burlap bags, stacked on pallets. All bags are numbered. Nothing out of the ordinary on the ship."

"No doubt, Hardy and Whelan know the crucial bag numbers." Spikings said, stroking his head.

"Goldfish 5 to Charlie 3, come in"

Spikings grabbed the radio. "Go ahead, Chas."

"They're starting up the crane. I can see… three forklift trucks, over."

"Anything else?"

"No Guv." Chas was quiet for a moment. "Guv? Hardy's driving into the parking lot. He's got two men with him, over."

"Right." Spikings motioned with his head. "Get out of here."

The team stood.

Dave and Watson left the van first, followed by Dempsey, Harry, and the others. Fanning out, each pair moved into position. Dave and Watson disappeared behind a waste container on the far left. Dempsey and Harry knelt behind the four feet high concrete wall that encircled the parking lot. Harry couldn't see anyone on her right. Everyone was in place. Dempsey and Makepeace had a clear view of the quay. They couldn't be seen from the road and the parking lot.

"Goldfish 9 in position, over." Dempsey pocketed the RT, then glanced over the wall. "They're not wasting any time are they?" The crane hoisted the first pallets onto the quay. Whelan was busy opening the roller shutters of the large warehouse. The forklift trucks lifted the first batch of pallets, supervised by Watts. Flanked by two large men, Watts pointed out where the pallets were supposed to go. Unloading was swift and methodical.

"Dempsey." Harry pushed his shoulder. Dempsey followed her gaze. A small truck drove past the parking lot. Fleetwood Shipping it read on the side. The truck headed towards the large warehouse on the quay.

"They really are moving fast." Harry pulled the RT from Dempsey's pocket.

"Goldfish 9 to Charlie 3 come in, over."

"I saw it, Harry." Spikings reacted. "They're going to move the stuff somewhere else."

"What's the plan, sir?"

"We'll follow the loaded truck. We'll have fewer people to deal with." Spikings ordered.

The truck backed into the single loading dock on the side of the warehouse. Spikings called Dave and Watson, as well as Fry and Chas, back to the police van. The two pairs that wouldn't be able to return to the van unseen. Dempsey turned his attention back to the quay. The crane was now hoisting the last pallets off the Santa Teresa. The forklifts stacked them in the warehouse. Watts briefly spoke to the men who worked the crane and forklifts, handing them what looked like a wad of cash. Dempsey and Makepeace ducked down when the men walked in their direction. The men drove off in a dented blue sedan.

"Harry." Dempsey pointed.

The driver of the truck climbed into the cabin and drove the truck forward, a few yards. Watts and his two men walked up to Whelan, who was jumping off the loading dock leveller. After a short discussion, Watts' two men climbed into the back of the truck. Whelan closed the heavy doors of the truck.

"Goldfish 9 to Charlie 3, come in."

"Harry?"

"They're driving off." Harry handed the RT back to Dempsey.

Whelan and Watts both climbed into the truck. Slowly, it drove away from the warehouse.

"Charlie 3, we're taking _my_ car, over." Harry nodded her agreement.

They waited until the truck turned onto the road before dashing towards the Mercedes. Dempsey put the Mercedes into gear and accelerated to catch up to the police van already in pursuit of the truck.

The truck headed east, followed by the police van. Dempsey trailed behind de van. He drove quietly, in thought. They made a left at a traffic light. They were now driving north. Dempsey felt increasingly uneasy. He glanced sideways. Harry's eyes already on him. Dempsey stared at the road for a few seconds, before looking at Harry again.

"What?" There was a hint of urgency in his voice.

"I don't know..." She hesitated. "Just..." She glanced over her shoulder.

"Yeah." Dempsey did a few more to and fro looks between the road and Harry. "I know." He scanned the road ahead and behind and pulled at the wheel. Harry held on to the grab handle as the Mercedes did a one-eighty. Dempsey floored it, back to the docks. Harry tried the RT, but they were already out of range.

"Call the station, maybe they can reach Spikings." Dempsey said, pushing down the accelerator.

Dempsey parked the car as close to the docks as he dared.

"So, what do we do?"

"We're just gonna check. Then we'll decide." Dempsey stepped out of the car. Harry followed suit. They sneaked back to the concrete wall.

"I knew it." Dempsey peeked over the wall. "That truck was a decoy. They knew we were here."

"Two trucks?" Harry looked puzzled. "There's Hardy now. Look."

They took in the scene before them. Two small trucks were parked in front of the entrance of the large warehouse. Hardy, his two guards and the two drivers were the only people at the dock. One of the drivers resembled:

"Paul Hardy?"

Harry nodded. "Looks like him." He'd driven one of the trucks. The driver of the second truck was loading up both trucks using one of the forklifts.

Dempsey and Makepeace turned and slid down to the ground with their backs against the wall

"We need a plan." Harry said. "They're going to drive away with two trucks. We'll have to make a choice. Which one do we follow?"

"Either that or it's five against two."

"Well, they don't know we're here."

"You up for it, Makepeace?"

"Life is hard, Dempsey." She took out her gun. Dempsey gave her a lopsided grin, the Magnum already in his hand.

"You wanna go from the front? Or you wanna try to get in from the side?"

"The loading dock's still open."

"Let's go." Dempsey got to his feet. He walked the length of the wall, staying low for cover, Harry right behind him. At the end of the wall they halted, waiting for the right moment to make a run for the large waste container to the left.

"Go!"

They walked up to the loading dock and climbed onto the dock leveller. The stacked pallets hid them from view. Harry crossed over to the other side of the warehouse. Finding cover behind the pallets, they made their way to the front until they were so close they could hear the men talking.

"That's the last one Pete." Hardy pointed. The man lifted the pallets and steered the forklift to the truck on the left. Dempsey saw Hardy, Mike and the other guard who accompanied Hardy. Pete, the driver, climbed out of the forklift. Paul Hardy was closing the doors on both trucks.

"Cover me." Dempsey mouthed. Harry changed her position to get a clear view. She adjusted the grip of her gloved hand on her gun. Dempsey stepped forward, gun drawn.

"Freeze! Police. You're surrounded." He bluffed. Several things happened at the same time. Pete turned and ran out of the warehouse towards his truck. Steven Hardy swore, his two guards spread out, ducking for cover. Paul Hardy pulled a gun from his back pocket. The engine of one of the trucks rumbled to life. The motor screeched as Pete drove away, fleeing the scene.

"Drop it, Paul." Dempsey roared. Paul had no intention of dropping the gun. A shot rang out. Dempsey dove behind a large pillar. Harry was ready to shoot. Dempsey beat her to it. She relaxed her finger on the trigger.

"No! Bastard!" Steven Hardy called out. His son lay on the floor; dead. Harry stepped to the right, to get a better position. Hardy hid behind a pillar. She could see Dempsey hiding behind another.

"It's over Hardy! Give it up!" Dempsey bellowed.

"The other cops all left. This guy's on his own, sir."

 _Mike,_ Dempsey thought.

"We can take him."

Dempsey gestured. _Stay where you are._

"Cliff?!" Mike called.

"Ready!" Cliff responded.

Feet moved. _Mike and Cliff_. Dempsey glanced over his shoulder. No Makepeace. His gun close to his right shoulder, he listened hard, to place the sounds surrounding him. Mike and Cliff were close, he felt them. Coming at him from two sides.

 _Where are ya, Harry?_ He had to move, now. _Pick a side_. His muscles flexed for action. _One, two…_ That instant, two shots were fired. Dempsey heard Mike and Cliff grunt. Then nothing. He turned to the direction the shots came from. Harry climbed down a stack of piled burlap bags. She jumped to the ground. Carefully, she approached Mike's body lying still on the floor.

"Check the other one."

Dempsey checked Cliff's body for a pulse. The man was dead.

 _Tinker Bell_. These guys were almost twice her size. To have a chance, they'd have to hear her coming first. He grinned, _he_ hadn't.


	3. Chapter 3

**First ending. I'll post the alternative ending in the next chapter.**

 _Hardy!_ As fast as he could, Hardy ran to the front of the building. Dempsey sprinted after him.

"He's armed, Dempsey!"

Dempsey ran into the daylight, quickly scanning the dock. Hardy ran along the quay, gun in hand, away from the docked ship. Dempsey raced after him. Hardy cast furtive glances over his shoulder. Dempsey was closing in on him. The man spun round to fire his gun. He missed. Dempsey didn't. Grabbing his leg, Hardy dropped his weapon. Dempsey moved closer.

"You're done, Hardy." In a desperate attempt, Hardy lunged, encircling Dempsey's waist in a rugby tackle. Dempsey slammed the butt of his gun down on Hardy's back. Groaning, Hardy held on, but balance was lost. Hardy and Dempsey tumbled sideways off the quay, into the cold river. A nine-foot drop into the water. The cold shock made him gasp. Dempsey resisted the urge to swim. Instead, he floated until his gasping eased. A few feet away, Hardy thrashed and coughed in the water.

"Dempsey! Are you alright?" Makepeace called down from the quay. He gave her a thumbs up. "Hang on."

Harry disappeared for a minute. Running after Hardy and Dempsey, she'd passed safety devices. Blaring sirens could be heard, in the distance.

 _Help's on the way._

"Dempsey?" He looked up. Harry dropped the lifebuoy. He grabbed hold of it and turned his attention to Hardy. The man was in trouble.

"Hardy. Here." Hardy stared at him, fear in his eyes. Dempsey swam closer. It was difficult. The cold water affected his coordination, but he managed to put the lifebuoy over Hardy's head. Dempsey floated behind Hardy, grabbing hold of the man's coat and the ropes around the lifebuoy. He kept them both afloat. Dempsey looked up at Harry.

 _We're not gonna last much longer in here._

"Hold on. They're coming." Anxiously, she eyed the parking lot. A sound came from the river. With a sigh of relief, Harry noticed the vessel from the Marine Police Unit heading their way.

The dock was busy with police officers checking the scene. Spikings barked his orders, casting the occasional rankled stare at Harry. She'd done a brief recount of what happened. The Superintendent was not happy. Wrapped in an aluminium foil blanket, Dempsey sat on a concrete block. He was shivering but refused to be taken to the hospital. The ambulance drove off. The injured and hypothermic Hardy on-board. Dempsey didn't look well. Harry sighed. _Stubborn idiot_. Harry walked over.

"Where are your keys?'

"In my pocket." Chattering teeth from the cold, he stretched out his right leg. She pried the keys out of his pocket, then signalled to Spikings.

"Sir? Dempsey can't stay here like this. I'm taking him home." Spikings nodded gruffly, gauging the shivering Lieutenant.

"I want your report on my desk, on Monday."

"Yes, sir."

Harry jogged over to the Mercedes. After helping Dempsey into the car, she turned up the heater and drove off.

"Good job today, Harry." He chattered. She smiled at him.

"Yes."

He pulled the foil blanket tighter around himself. Water dripped onto the leather seat.

"That's gonna be ruined." He muttered. Harry drove the Mercedes through the afternoon traffic. She didn't have to think about where to go. Her place was closest.

Harry opened her front door and gestured for Dempsey to enter. From the entry hall, he automatically headed for the lounge. Harry grabbed his arm to stop him walking through.

"I don't want you dripping all over my carpet, Dempsey. You'd better strip here." A sparkle appeared in his eye as he glanced at her. He tried to come up with a witty retort, but the connections in his brain were not functioning well enough, to come up with one.

"Right." He stepped back to the doormat. Harry went up the stairs to turn on the shower. From the bathroom cabinet, she took two large towels. Dempsey discarded the foil blanket. He stood shivering on the doormat, trying to take off his coat. The coordination in his fingers lost, he failed. On her way down the stairs, Harry saw him struggling. He could barely control his tremors. After a second's hesitation, she reached out her hand. She helped him peel off his wet clothes and shoes.

"You should have gone to hospital."

"Nah, this is much better." For a fleeting moment, his gaze drew her in. Averting her eyes, Harry handed him the towels.

"Damn, I'm cold." He pulled the towels tighter around him. She nudged him toward the stairs.

"Can you manage?"

"Yeah." She watched him wrestle his way upstairs. When she heard him enter the shower, Harry went to the lounge.

Quietly, she moved around downstairs. A fire in the fireplace. Dempsey's wet clothes in her washing machine. Spare clothes from the boot of the Mercedes. A lovely large mug of tea. She went upstairs to check how he was doing.

"You come to scrub my back, Makepeace?" He queried from behind the shower curtain. His teeth were still chattering.

"Not likely, Dempsey." She rebutted, glad her partner sounded more like himself. She left his dry clothes on a shelf. Downstairs, she slumped in the chair. Close to the fire. Her mind went over the events of that day. Pondering, she sipped her tea. It had been dangerous. Risky. They'd been outnumbered, but they'd flown right through. With each other, they stood the best chance of staying alive. Staring at the flames, Harry realised she was hungry. She checked her fridge for something edible. While the pasta cooked, and the sauce simmered, Harry went upstairs to check on her partner.

After spending an hour in the shower, Harry heard Dempsey come down the stairs. Barefoot, in sweatpants and shirt, he stood in the middle of the lounge. His shirt unbuttoned; his fingers unable to fasten the buttons.

"You still look like hell."

"Gee. Thanks, Harry." He ruffled his hair.

She motioned him toward the sofa.

"At least you're not shaking any more."

"Still cold, though." Close to the fire, he sat down. Dempsey wiggled his fingers.

"Hands are still numb." He shrugged and leaned back. Eyes closed. Harry studied the features that were so familiar they were fixed in her mind. His face, in every detail, so uniquely James Dempsey. The sight of him moved her. He was exhausted.

"I'll get us something to eat, mmm?"

He opened his eyes.

"Sure." He reached for the blanket that lay folded on the armrest of the sofa.

Harry put a mug of hot tea on the small table, then handed him a fork and spoon and his plate of pasta. Freshly grated Parmesan on top. Sitting opposite him, she set her plate on her knees.

"Thanks." He sat up a straighter, readjusting the blanket over his legs. He ate slowly. For a moment, he stopped chewing.

"I've had this before, right?" The last time they had pasta together.

"Mrs Evans' pasta sauce." Harry smiled. "With the hours we keep, I always have some in my freezer."

"Good sauce." He mumbled, remembering where they ended up, the last time they ate the sauce.

They finished the meal in silence. Not that he was hungry, but he finished his plate. The sweet tea warmed him from the inside. Combined with the comfortable heat from the fire, and Harry close by, he felt better. It was increasingly difficult to keep his eyes open. He sunk back into the sofa. Harry cleared away the plates and tidied the kitchen. By the time she returned to the lounge, Dempsey lay stretched out on the sofa, sleeping. He appeared restless; his breath irregular. His body still recuperating from being in the cold water. Not sure what to do, she checked the time. Six thirty. A shower was a good idea.

Behind her desk, Harry typed. She might as well finish their case report; Dempsey was still completely out. Occasionally, Harry turned away from her typewriter to check on him. Dempsey's breathing now slow and regular. A peaceful sleep. The report was long, but the events of that day were fresh in her mind. The report wrote itself. Two and a half hours later, Harry pulled the final sheet of paper from the typewriter. She added it to a grey folder and leaned back in her chair. Her eyes were drawn to the sofa. Her fingers tapped the desk. She picked up her glass of water, the book she was halfway through reading and sat down on the rug near the fire. Her back against the arm post of the sofa, near Dempsey's head.

Harry craved the closeness of his body. She drank a bit of water to clear the dryness in her throat and opened her book. She read a page. Then read it again.

 _Who am I kidding?_.

Harry closed the book and shifted her weight sideways. Harry bent her legs, resting her arm on the sofa, she faced Dempsey. Involuntarily, her hand moved towards his face. His forehead and cheek felt warm. The colour of his face looked a lot healthier than earlier that evening. Her finger ran over the scar above his right eye. Carefully, probing the irregularity on his skin. Her gaze dropped down to Dempsey's chest. His shirt hung open at the front. The room was quiet and warm. Dempsey sound asleep. Gently, Harry brushed her hand over his chest, from his clavicle down to his abdomen. Bare skin ended at the waistband of his pants. Familiar territory. A different kind of turmoil consumed her than the last time she touched him this intimately. Savouring the sensation, Harry traced her fingers back up to his chest. Slightly, tilting her head as she did so. When she reached Dempsey's throat, she found Dempsey staring at her.

Caught out, she pulled back her hand.

"Go on, Harry." Dempsey intercepted her hand. Sleep had given him back control of his limbs. With a slight shake of her head, Harry raised herself to her knees, trying to put some distance between them. He swung his legs off the sofa to sit up straight. He kept her locked in between his legs, holding on to her arms. Harry couldn't look at him but had to when Dempsey embraced her. Gradually, he pulled her closer. Breathing under his intense scrutiny was difficult.

"Harry?" A simple question. Was she ready for the kind of hunger she saw in his eyes? Harry wasn't sure, but there was something else.

 _He's going to catch me._

Harry jumped off the deep end, nodding her assent.

Dempsey's reaction was immediate. He pressed his lips on hers, relaying his hunger in a ferocious kiss. His hands already worked on Harry's top. His lips moved towards the soft skin beneath her ear, and back again. Primitive instincts overtook his higher brain functions, urging him to own, possess, ravish. Feverishly, Harry pulled at his clothes while her tongue sought access to his mouth. The sound of her deep sighs in his ears drove the last coherent thought from his mind. The realisation that she was as far gone as he was. Then he let go. Dempsey provided sanctuary the last time he touched her. Now, he induced a storm. Relentlessly, his hands roamed Harry's body. Hands and lips lingered in places that made her writhe beneath him, gasping for air. The release she felt building inside her, was not just physical. It also promised relief from the sadness of the past weeks. She couldn't help it. As her orgasm engulfed her, she cried. Dempsey's arms around her until her tears subsided.

Side by side, they stared at the ceiling. Silent. Recovering. Her head rolled sideways to look at him, silently asking to explain what just happened. Dempsey shrugged.

"This is way beyond anything I can explain."

Harry went back to staring at the ceiling. Her body felt relaxed, revitalised. Not tired, at all. Harry gave him another sideways glance. His eyes were closed.

 _Hmm. Dilemma._

Turning on her side, Harry supported her head with her hand. Her other hand tickled his side. He opened his eyes to see a hint of a smile.

"Harry?"

She drew a circle on his chest.

 _God help me._

"Gimme five minutes, okay? I'm still recuperating here."

Harry kissed his shoulder, his jaw, his cheek.

"Harry..."

A seductive glow in her eyes, she kissed the corner of his mouth as her hand travelled over his stomach.

"Allow me." She whispered against his lips.

The coffee maker bubbled away. Dempsey watched the drops of coffee fall into the glass decanter. He felt a pleasant buzz in his brain. In his mind, last night was perfect. He always sensed there was plenty of warmth beneath Harriet Makepeace's cool exterior. He sensed it at Winfield Hall. Still, it came as a surprise. He felt humbled by the honesty with which Harry shared herself; matching his enthusiasm without pretence. Was he the luckiest bastard in the world right now? He felt like it. A silly grin appeared on his face. Admit it, Dempsey: _you are smitten!_ He focused on breakfast again. He found a tray in one of the cupboards. Plates, knives, butter and jam. Toast. A few grapes and sliced apple in a bowl. What else did he need? Dempsey strolled into the lounge to cut a few flowers from the bouquet on Harry's piano. After pouring the coffee, he put the flowers in a glass in the middle of the tray.

 _Ready._

Now to get his aching muscles up the stairs again.

Slowly, her mind drifted into consciousness. Her head buried in her pillow, Harry lay on her stomach. In the early hours of the morning, they'd made their way upstairs. Her bed a more comfortable place to sleep.

 _Sleep?_

The night's activities curled her mouth into a sleepy grin. They had dozed off on the wool rug in front of the fireplace; not very comfortable. She raised her head, turning it to the left. Her muscles objected to the move.

 _Ouch._

Her head landed on the pillow again. No Dempsey in her bed. There was movement downstairs, then footsteps on her staircase.

"Morning, tiger." Tray in his hands, Dempsey entered the bedroom. "Breakfast."

"Good morning, James."

"Ah. So, it's James now, huh?"

"Well, you've been naked in my bed." The words muffled by her pillow. "It would be a little unseemly to call you Dempsey."

Harry took a deep breath. Moaning, she raised herself and turned over onto her back. Okay. Her muscles were definitely not just sore from lying on the floor. She winced.

"You need more practice, Harry. Build a little stamina!" The remark earned him an indignant glare. Harry propped up her pillow against the headboard. Holding the tray, he stood for a moment, at the foot of the bed, idly.

"Why don't you sit down, _James_?" She asked primly, pulling the covers up over her breasts.

"Yeah. Just trying to figure out how. I'm a little sore." He grinned broadly. Carefully, he placed himself on the bed, setting the tray between them.

"Hungry?"

Pensively, she nibbled on her toast.

"Uh oh." Dempsey said.

"What?"

"I recognise the 'We need to talk' look on your face."

"We _do_ need to talk. About work."

"Now?"

Harry winced as she sat up straight.

"Damn." She muttered, then leaned back against her pillow. "We're not going to be doing anything else." She readjusted her position. "We might as well talk."

Dempsey met her halfway. "You think we're gonna have to stop working together?"

"Not necessarily."

That was unexpected.

"Work and emotion don't go together, Harry." Words he'd used before.

"When has emotion ever _not_ been a part of our partnership, mmm? We've always managed to be effective." Rotating the cup of coffee in her hand, she met his gaze. "I'm not sure it's going to change our working relationship all that much, to be honest. But there's the rest of the team to consider as well. And Spikings."

"You worried how they're gonna react?"

"It's a man's world, Dempsey." Talking about the job, he was 'Dempsey' again. "The boys are going to pat _you_ on the shoulder and give you a thumbs up. 'Well done, Dempsey, you _scored_!" A broad grin on his face, he opened his mouth for a well-placed retort. Harry raised her finger to silence him.

"I'm not so sure what they'd say about _me_." She said, softly.

"Women in the force. Nothing but trouble." He chuckled.

"I'm serious about this, Dempsey. I've always been cautious not to get myself into situations that would provoke those kinds of remarks." Frowning, she brushed her hair behind her ears. She threw her hands in the air. "Now, look at me. In bed with my partner."

"Hey, I ain't complaining." He raised his fist. "Always been a great supporter of women in the force."

Harry snorted over her coffee.

"Mr 'Women are not cut out for this kind of work'."

Dempsey shrugged.

"What do you wanna do?"

"I'd like to keep this quiet." She caught the expression of doubt on his face. "I know we won't be able to keep it up indefinitely. But for the moment." She raised her shoulders. "It'll give us time to find our feet, with… this."

"So?"

"So. I want us to be professional. No innuendo, no cuddling, no kissing, no holding hands."

"Hmm." He looked a little deflated.

"No significant touching of any kind, Dempsey. Not on the job. It's too important. And too dangerous, not to be careful." Harry warned.

"As long as there's plenty of significant touching at home. I guess I can live with that." He gave Harry a crooked smile as he bit down on another piece of toast.

"Well, that's all I wanted to say about work. If you have any other thoughts?" Harry dipped her head, to sip her coffee.

"Nah. We'll see how it goes, huh?"

"Yes."

"You want more toast?" Dempsey reached for the tray.

"No, thanks."

He groaned as he placed the tray beside the bed, on the floor. Damn, he was sore.

"You need more practice, James. Build a little stamina!" Harry quipped.

"Ha ha! Cute." He managed to bring himself back to a sitting position, a flower in his hand. He threw her a sideways glance before turning back to the flower. He plucked one of the petals.

"She loves me." Another petal. "She loves me not."

 _God_

Harry sighed. Dempsey picked another petal.

"She loves me." The petal fell on the sheets. "She loves me not." Their eyes met for a second. Dempsey plucked another petal off the flower.

"She loves me." Another petal. "She loves me not…." There was one petal left on the flower.

He lifted his hand, holding up the flower for Harry. Hesitating for a moment, she picked the final petal off the flower.

"She loves you." She whispered.

That beautiful smile again. Dempsey leaned in for a kiss. Playfully, Harry bit his bottom lip. Dempsey grimaced as he pulled back. He tapped her nose.

"I'd jump you right now, but I'm afraid I won't be able to move for a week if I do." He stretched his arms and his back. "Maybe, I'll have another shower."

"Go ahead." With some effort and a giggle from Harry, Dempsey got out of bed.

"Do you mind if I join you?" Harry called after him.

"I don't know." He peeked around the door, eyeing her suspiciously. "Are you gonna harass me in the shower?" Harry gave him a benign smile. Dempsey disappeared again.

"I might." Harry murmured and kicked the covers to the side. She grabbed her bathrobe and headed for the shower.


	4. Chapter 4

**Alternative ending:**

Mike and Cliff were dead, lying on the floor. Steven Hardy hid behind a pillar somewhere at the front of the warehouse. Harry gestured to Dempsey then moved towards her right. She disappeared behind a stack of pallets. One of the forklifts was parked to her right side. Dempsey moved forward, finding cover behind a pillar. The familiar sound of a gun being loaded. Dempsey estimated Hardy was still some distance away. He knew the man wouldn't give up without a fight. Dempsey ducked behind the next pillar. That way, either he or Makepeace was sure to get an opportunity to shoot.

"You're not gonna get outa here alive, Hardy. Give it up." Dempsey shouted.

"Might take one of you with me. You killed my son, you bastard!" An anguished expression on his face, Hardy stepped clear of the pillar. His gun aimed at the pallets Harry was hiding behind. To Dempsey's relief, Hardy didn't have a clear line of fire. Swiftly, Dempsey pivoted to the left. Gun firmly in hand, he aimed. When he pulled the trigger, he knew it was a hit. As Hardy fell to the ground, his trigger-finger pulled, squeezing off another round. Bullets sprayed in different directions. To Dempsey's right, Harry cried out. The sound made his blood run cold. Harry was hurt. His heart told him to run to his partner. His head told him he had to check Hardy first; make sure he was dead. Cautiously, Dempsey approached Hardy. Fear building inside his belly, he checked for signs of life. There weren't any. Hardy was dead.

He sprinted, as fast as he could. Harry was on the floor, holding her left shoulder. Blood seeped through her fingers. She was trying to put pressure on the wound, but the angle was awkward.

With quick hands, he helped Harry out of her jumper and t-shirt. Harry grimaced.

"I'm sorry, Harry." He saw an entry wound on the front of her shoulder, no exit wound. She was losing bright red blood. _Large artery of her arm. Shit!_ Dempsey took off his coat. He folded it to prop up her head. He folded Harry's t-shirt into a roll and put it onto her shoulder. Harry whimpered as he pressed down.

"A bullet ricocheted off the forklift." Harry's breathing was laboured.

"Bullet's still in there." He said, taking her right hand, he placed it on the roll of fabric. "Try and put as much pressure on that as you can."

Their eyes locked for a second as he covered her with her jumper.

"I'll call an ambulance. Be back before ya know it. Push down!" Before she could say anything, Dempsey jumped up and headed for the closest phone. Warehouse five. Harry pressed as hard as she could, but _damn! It hurt._

Harry felt like she dozed off for a second, but then Dempsey was beside her again on his knees.

"Hey Harry, how're ya doin'. Ambulance is on the way." Her reply was a weak smile. After he'd made the emergency call from warehouse five, Dempsey grabbed a few clean towels from the small kitchenette. He removed the soaked t-shirt and replaced it with a clean towel. He positioned it carefully.

"I'm gonna lean on your shoulder a bit. See if we can stop the bleeding."

Harry nodded quietly. Dempsey put one hand on the other, slowly increasing the pressure until his full weight leaned on Harry's shoulder. In a reflex to push away his hand, her right hand gripped his wrist. A four letter word, he'd never heard her use before, left her mouth. She winced, her face contorted.

"I'm sorry, tiger. This is necessary." After a couple of minutes, Dempsey mustered enough courage to check the wound. Just a small amount of blood on the towel. Relieved, he shifted his hands somewhat. Then leaned again, subconsciously increasing the pressure. Harry writhed to get away from the pain but willed herself not to fight it.

"Damn, this hurts." Harry breathed. Her right hand still vice-like on Dempsey's wrist.

"They'll have something for the pain in the ambulance, babe." Dempsey ignored the cramps in his hands. "You know your body makes endorphins when it gets hurt? Natural painkillers."

"Well, mine's not making enough at the moment." Harry said dryly.

"There's stuff you can do to make more." Dempsey went on, talking to distract from the concern he felt. A puzzled Harry met his gaze.

"Mmm?"

"You'd have to run a marathon or something."

Harry still managed to roll her eyes at him.

"Sure, just give me a minute."

"Yeah. I guess not, huh?" Dempsey shrugged. He took another peek under the towel. Harry had closed her eyes again. Her face was pale.

"Well, there is something else that increases endorphins." He continued.

Harry took a few shallow breaths before she reacted.

"What?"

"Orgasm."

Her body tensed as she suppressed her laughter. _Ouch._ It took some more deep breathing to relax again. "Not right now, Dempsey. I'm not in the mood."

"You sure?" Furtively, he glanced around. "I think I can manage a quickie before the ambulance gets here."

Laughing was agony. Harry cursed again.

"I guess that's a no, then?" Dempsey queried.

"Maybe some other time." Harry muttered.

"I'll hold you to that." There was a serious undertone in his voice. They held a look. The ambulance was coming. They heard it in the distance.

"You really should watch your language, Sergeant." He berated her, unable to hide the relief he felt at the arrival of the ambulance.

Diligently and fast, the paramedics worked, getting Harry ready for transport to the hospital. They lifted her onto the wheeled stretcher, folding blankets around her. Spikings, Chas and a few other members of the team appeared in the entrance of the warehouse, while the paramedics strapped Harry in.

"What the bloody hell happened here?!" Spikings barked, pointing at the bodies on the floor. He noticed the blood on Dempsey's hands. Then, Makepeace was wheeled to the ambulance. The Superintendent's expression mellowed.

"Harry?"

"Ricochet bullet in the shoulder." Missing the accusatory glint in Spikings' eye was impossible. They followed the stretcher outside. Spikings put a gentle hand on Harry's head.

"Hang in there, girl!"

"Yes, sir."

"We need to go now, sir." One of the paramedics urged. "That arm needs to be seen to, now."

"Dempsey! You stay here and explain..." Spikings gesticulated; his arms in the air. "...all this."

"Chief..." He glanced at the ambulance.

"Chas? You go with Harry."

"Chief..." Dempsey started.

"Go." Spikings motioned Chas to his car. Chas cast Dempsey an apologetic look.

"Sure, Guv." He gave Dempsey a quick pat on the back as he walked past him.

The ambulance drove off. Sirens blaring. Dempsey watched it leave, a pained expression on his face.

" _Leftenant!"_

With a sigh, Dempsey forced himself to focus on what happened, earlier.

"They knew we had 'em under surveillance, boss."

Dempsey gave a detailed account of the events. In the meantime, Dave, Watson and the others secured the area and checked the one remaining truck.

"Found the drugs, Guv." Fry called out from the back of the truck.

Spikings eyed Dempsey, shaking his head. How was it possible that the bloody Yank always managed to be at the centre of the action. Or was he the cause of it? Spikings wasn't sure. Dempsey ruffled his hair. He was restless.

"Ya need me for anything else, boss?" It had been almost two hours since the ambulance left.

"No. I'm expecting a full report!" Spikings gave a curt nod. Dempsey was excused. He turned on his heel.

"Dempsey?" The Superintendent called after him. "Let me know what happens."

"Yeah."

Dempsey found Chas in one of the waiting rooms.

"The paramedics called ahead. When we got here, they immediately carted her off to the operating room." Chas held up his coffee. "Been waiting here ever since. Coffee's over there."

Dempsey poured himself a cup. Sipping his coffee, he paced the room.

"So what happened back there?" Chas asked.

Dempsey finally sat down. When he was almost done recounting the story, the surgeon walked in.

"Ms Makepeace is in recovery now. We took the bullet out. It just nicked the brachial artery. Tricky injury."He said. "If you don't get to the hospital quick enough, you can easily lose an arm." He made a reassuring gesture with his hand at the shocked faces of the two detectives. "We cleaned the wound, sutured the artery and restored blood flow to the arm. We'll keep her here for a few days at least, give her some antibiotics. Bullet wounds have a nasty habit of infecting."

Dempsey gave a sigh of relief.

"Thanks, Doc."

The doctor checked his watch.

"It'll be a few hours before Ms Makepeace will be transferred to the ward. Not exactly visiting hours. You might as well go home. Come back tomorrow."

Dempsey couldn't sleep. The events at the docks passed through his mind, over and over again. Determined not to think about what _could_ have happened, he stepped out of bed. Standing in front of the window, he thought of the work they did. He was a good cop. Correction. He was an excellent cop. He loved the job. Just like Harry did. Yes, it was dangerous, _very_ dangerous at times. Even though he tried not to think about it any more, he'd been very scared in that warehouse. Terrified. Pressing down on Harry's shoulder, looking at her pale face. Would he ever want to do anything else? _No._ He'd never want Harry to do anything else either. He'd been there. He hated it. Dempsey had felt even worse when she left the force than he did now. They were cops. They just had to look out for each other.

The room was quiet, dimly lit by a small lamp over the washbasin in the corner. Cautiously, the door was pushed open. Dempsey stepped into the room. The door fell closed behind him. Without making a sound, he approached the bed. She faced the other way. The blonde hair fanned out over the pillow. Her left arm lay on a pillow. A white dressing was visible high on the inside of her arm. There were two iv lines in her right arm. For a while, he stood there motionless. The sight of her: alive, breathing, safe, finally calmed his nerves. Harry stirred, shifting her position. She opened her eyes.

"Hiya, Harry."

It took a few moments to register his presence. Still drowsy from the anaesthesia, Harry closed her eyes again.

"Breaking into my house. Sneaking into my hospital room. You never learn, do you?" The little smile on her face negating her words. "What time is it?"

"After two." Dempsey replied. "How's the arm?"

Lifting her head, Harry scrutinised her arm. She moved it, wiggled her fingers. "Alright, I think."

"What's going on here?" A voice asked. Neither Harry nor Dempsey had heard the nurse enter the room. "What are you doing here?" The nurse gave Dempsey an annoyed look. "It's the middle of the night."

"This is my partner, Lieutenant Dempsey." A glint of amusement in Harry's eyes. "He just came here to check on me."

"Hmm." The nurse walked around the bed.

"Hello dear, my name's Alice." She checked Harry's wound, the colour of her arm, the presence of pulsations. "Well, Lieutenant. I think Ms Makepeace is going to be fine, but I don't want you disturbing my patient's rest any longer."

Dempsey took a few steps back.

"I think you're in good hands here, Harry." He gave Alice a wink. "See ya, tomorrow."

"If you want to make yourself useful, Lieutenant. You can bring a change of clothes and some toiletries." The nurse called after him.

"No problem."

"I have my keys here." She motioned with her hand.

Dempsey merely grinned, opening the door to leave. Harry sighed.

"Never mind." Eyelids heavy, she closed her eyes again.

"I'm sure my colleagues wouldn't visit me in the middle of the night." Alice remarked.

"Dempsey's different."

"I'm sure he is." The nurse gave her a knowing smile. Harry couldn't help smiling back.

"Yes. Well."

"Are you comfortable, dear?"

Harry nodded.

"Need anything for the pain?"

"No, thank you.'

Alice turned the pillow, adjusted the covers and checked Harry's iv. "I'll be back, later. Goodnight, dear."

"Goodnight, Alice."

William Winfield invited Harry to stay at Winfield Hall, to recover.

"You should go." Dempsey advised.

After some thought, she decided to take her uncle up on his offer. Angela, Dempsey, the rest of her friends. They would all be at work. When she was released from hospital, her uncle picked her up and they drove to Winfield Hall. Harry enjoyed her stay, more than she expected. Without distractions, she roamed her home. Once she felt up to it, she went for walks around the grounds. After ten days of staying at Winfield Hall, Harry was getting antsy. Her uncle drove her back to London, the next day. After lunch, he dropped her off at her house. Her home had given her some much-needed clarity. Now, all she needed was a little courage and something to do. She was bored of doing nothing. Harry tried driving her car, that afternoon.

Spikings was surprised to see Harry enter the office the next day. There was a determined look on the Sergeant's face. He knew better than to send her away.

"I can do some paperwork. Maybe a bit of organising." Harry glanced around the office.

"Dempsey and Watson will be on a stakeout for the next three nights, starting tonight." Spikings said. _Hmm_. A little disappointed, she went to work.

After Dempsey's second night of working, he strolled into the office.

"Hey, Harry. The boss mentioned you were back." Dempsey sat down on his desk, stifling a yawn. "You were missing us, huh?"

"Well..." Before she could say more, Spikings interrupted. Dempsey shrugged apologetically.

"Gotta report to the boss."

Harry looked up from her computer when the office door opened again.

"One night to go?" She asked.

"Yep." He stifled another yawn.

 _Go on, Harriet_. Harry combed her fingers through her hair.

"Do you want to come by, tomorrow? We can get some take-away?"

Dempsey eyed her keenly.

"Sure. Seven o'clock?"

"Fine."

"I'll bring the food."

Five to seven he rang the doorbell. In his hand a plastic bag containing Italian food. He heard Harry coming down the stairs. A second later, she opened the door. Barefoot. Wearing jeans and one of those white, almost see through blouses. He held up the bag.

"Hope you're hungry."

"Come in."

Dempsey couldn't quite place the look in her eye or the smile on her face. He followed Harry into the lounge. There was a fire in the fireplace. Two plates and cutlery already on the side table. He took the containers out of the bag and sat down on the sofa.

"Do you want something to drink?" She asked, heading for the kitchen.

"Juice?" Harry did a double back. Dempsey gave her one of his crooked smiles. "Water's fine."

He divided the food between the two plates. Harry returned, two glasses of water in her hands.

"Ta." Harry took her plate and sat down. "So, any new leads from the stakeout?"

"Nah. But me and Watson are gonna lean on our informant. He knows more, I'm sure." Dempsey shovelled lasagna on his fork. "How was your stay at Winfield Hall?"

"It was nice."

"Yeah?"

"Yes. It was nice to be there, without having to handle anything." Harry fell quiet again.

"And your uncle's alright?" Dempsey went on, chewing his lasagna.

"He settled in fine." Harry smiled. "Why wouldn't he? Winfield Hall used to be his home as well."

Dempsey observed Harry as she ate her pasta. Yep. She was definitely preoccupied with something. Something to do with him? He took another bite of his lasagna. Perhaps, there would be something more on the menu than Italian food.

Harry took the dishes to the kitchen. She glanced over her shoulder as she put on the kettle. Dempsey was right behind her. He threw the empty containers in the waste bin.

"Tea?"

"Yeah." He moved a bit closer, leaning against the kitchen counter top. "You okay?"

"I'm Fine." The kettle ready, Harry took two mugs from the cupboard. Her left arm trailed a bit behind her right arm.

"Geez, I forgot to ask. How's your arm?"

"It's alright." Harry dropped a teabag in each mug. "Stitches were taken out last week." She poured hot water in the mugs. "I can do pretty much everything with it."

"Good. Still painful?"

"Only with certain movements. If you're careful, it should…" She paused. _Damn_. "…Be fine." She finished her sentence. Dempsey moved a step closer.

"Me? Careful with what?" He eyed her closely. Harry pulled the teabags from the mugs.

" _I_. I meant _I_."

"No, you didn't. You always say exactly what you mean."

Harry didn't respond.

"So, what could I do that might cause you discomfort?" Dempsey pressed.

"You giving me the third degree like this is making me very uncomfortable." Avoiding his eyes, Harry picked up one of the mugs and walked past him.

Dempsey picked up the other mug and followed her back to the lounge.

"I just got the feeling you want to tell me something."

 _I hear you're good with endorphins_.

Harry stifled a snort, pushing the thought from her mind. When she placed her mug on the mantlepiece, she had regained her composure. All evening she'd tried to figure out how to go about talking to Dempsey.

"So, tell me." He wasn't going to let this go.

 _Here we go_. Harry willed herself to maintain eye contact despite the paralysing intensity of his gaze.

"I never thanked you." She started.

"For what?"

"The night at Winfield Hall." Harry paused for a second. "And for not pressing the matter, afterwards."

"Wasn't easy." Dempsey confessed.

"Sorry." A tentative smile.

He shrugged.

"You know. A ten-mile run and two cold showers a day. I was fine."

This time, her smile also reached her eyes. He grinned back. Laughing she looked down at her hands. When she raised her eyes, Dempsey's grin had vanished.

"I want more, Harry." His usually smooth low voice sounded strained.

"So do I." Soft but clear. She felt a huge swell of warmth in her stomach as Dempsey leaned in to kiss her. Impatiently, she took a step forward and grabbed hold of his shirt. Pulling him towards her, their lips met. Excitement shot through her body; her senses heightened. She gasped for air, as his lips vigorously explored hers. Her hands knotted in his shirt. She brought him even closer to her. Dempsey's tongue brushed over her bottom lip. He uttered a soft, low groan and Harry opened her mouth to welcome him. The sensation of his tongue stroking hers arousing her even further. Energetic hands began to unbutton her blouse. Harry leaned back a little to give him room to work. Deftly, Dempsey pulled her blouse off her shoulders. At the same time, Harry, not fully realising what her fingers had been up to, removed Dempsey's shirt. His hands travelled down to her jeans.

 _We're going to be naked here in a minute_.

Gripping his hands, Harry took a step back. Breathing hard, he stared at her.

"Harry?"

"The floor's not very comfortable." She pointed her finger towards the ceiling. _Let's go upstairs_. Walking backwards, Harry lead him towards the staircase. Breathless kisses slowed down their ascent considerably. Finally, halfway up the stairs, Dempsey simply lifted her up. He quickly bridged the last few steps to the first floor.

Dempsey didn't want to risk waking the sleeping figure that lay curled up with her back against his chest. Carefully, he shifted his position to be more comfortable. His hand stroked Harry's hip; he couldn't resist. Contentedly, Dempsey listened to her regular deep breaths. After working the past three nights, he had trouble getting to sleep. His mouth curved into a little smile as he recalled what happened the hours before. _Passion and lust_. More so than he ever envisioned. Harry's skin, familiar territory, already mapped out in his brain. She writhed under his hands as his fingers and lips effortlessly found all sensitive areas on her body. Her eyes laced with feverish excitement. It felt liberating to touch her without restraint. He held nothing back. It was a revelation to be touched by Harry holding nothing back.

He cast a glimpse over Harry's shoulder. The clock on the bedside table read two thirty. Harry moved in her sleep. As she did so, he drew her tighter into his arms. Dempsey pressed his lips to her neck. His voice low, the words barely audible.

"You're perfect."

She glanced over her shoulder. Cupping his head, she drew him towards her for a quick kiss. Then she let go. Sleep enveloped her again.

The water was warm and soothing. Harry lightly bathed her skin, thinking about the night before. Everything was different now. Regarding their partnership, she wasn't entirely sure what the consequences would be. She'd have to talk to James about how they would handle the situation, some time today. The job was too important. As a woman in a man's world, Harry always took care not to get herself into situations that would instigate talk or scepsis about how she functioned in the force. Here she was, sleeping with her partner. Did she have regrets? _No_. Harry smiled. His hands on her body: relentless, demanding, ravenous. Had her hands been any different? _No_. His touch had exhilarated her. Almost as much as his reactions to _her_ touch had exhilarated her. Somewhere amidst deep sighs and low moans, they'd softly whispered their 'I love you's' to bare skin. She'd known, already sensed it at Winfield Hall. It felt lovely to hear him say it out loud. Chuckling, she adjusted the temperature of the water. Less warm. _Better_.

Quietly, Dempsey stood behind her. When he put his hands on her hips, Harry leaned back. Kissing her neck, he softly pushed her away from the stream of water until it fell solely on him.

"Hey!" Harry turned around to face him.

A grin on his face, he pulled her against him.

"Morning, tiger."

"Good morning."

"How's the arm?" He eyed the red scar high on her left arm.

"Fine."

Dempsey had seen the other scars the first time he saw her naked. At Winfield Hall, he just registered, put it aside to investigate further at a different time. Now, he was curious.

His thumb brushed over the scar she had underneath her right breast. His hand dropped down to her right hip. Gently, he touched the larger scar, visible close to her hip bone.

"What are these?"

The moment, he thought Harry wasn't going to answer his question any more, she spoke.

"Battle wounds." Her expression neutral, she didn't elaborate.

"Battle wounds?"

"You have a couple of those yourself, don't you?"

"Yeah, but I've told _you_ about _my_ battle wounds." His hand moved up to the scar underneath her breast. "These are knife wounds."

She brushed water away from her face. Dempsey waited for Harry to form her response.

"It's not really a story for today." Instinctively he gathered her closer to him. Her arms encircled his waist. She gazed at him, candidly.

"I _will_ tell you. I promise, but not now."

Smiling, she lifted her head to kiss him.


	5. Chapter 5

Epilogue:

Spikings put down the receiver. He leaned back, smiling. It had been a good week for SI 10. Dave and Watson made several arrests when they uncovered a large illegal gambling ring. Fry got the promotion he'd been hoping for; he was now a Sergeant. It took them several weeks, but Dempsey and Makepeace solved a difficult murder case; an accomplished bit of detective work. And, of course, several months ago, they stopped Stephen Hardy transferring a large shipment of drugs at the docks. Five thousand kilos of cocaine. That one counted. A few days after Hardy was arrested, Jay's dead body was found at his apartment. They assumed Jay had been the snitch who told Hardy and Whelan the police was on to them.

And now, a call from the commissioner, confirming a larger budget for SI 10. Spikings had a pretty good idea how he wanted to spend it. He rose to pour himself a cup of coffee. Hot coffee in his hand, he stood in the doorway watching the communal office. Fry was searching through a file cabinet. Ever since he found out he'd been made a Sergeant, there was a grin fixed on his face. Watson and Dave put on their coats. They were about to leave.

"We're off now Guv. Talk to one of the witnesses." Watson waved as he and his partner left the office. Spiking sipped his coffee. D _am_ _n_. Still, too hot. An annoyed frown appeared on the Superintendent's face. Chas entered the office, carrying a stack of files Spikings had requested. The Chief's gaze came to rest on the slender frame of Makepeace, who was typing her report. Part of the extra budget Spikings intended to spend on replacing the computers. He made a mental note to talk to Harry about that. The door opened. Dempsey strolled in.

"Final autopsy report." He dropped a small folder on Makepeace's desk.

"And what am I supposed to do with it?"

Dempsey moved towards the coffee counter.

"Put it in the report of course. Coffee?"

"Yes, please." Makepeace stretched her arms. "I don't think so, Dempsey. I've just spent two hours typing. It's your turn now."

Dempsey handed Makepeace her cup.

"Fine, move over." He took her place behind the typewriter. Sitting on Dempsey's desk, Makepeace leafed through the folder.

"Anything new in the autopsy report?"

"Nah."

Covertly, Spikings studied his most effective team. They behaved like they always did. They were as effective as they ever were. Still, something niggled in his brain. He couldn't put his finger on it. Chas walked past him, noticing his stare.

"What have they done now, Guv?"

"You tell me." Chas failed to hide the guilt on his face.

"Ah. You noticed it too?" Spikings said.

"Don't know, Guv." Chas said. "They haven't said anything or done anything." Chas glimpsed at the two detectives. They _hadn't_ said or done anything out of the ordinary. Something _had_ changed though. A subtle change. It had taken Chas a while to see it. Ever since the partnership started, there had been this unfulfilled sexual attraction between them. It was unmistakable. Recently, it was replaced by a different energy. Chas noticed. He wasn't sure what it meant. When he mentioned it to his wife, she made fun of him for missing the obvious.

"How lovely for Harry. I'm surprised she managed to hold him off for so long. Dempsey's quite dishy." Chas had raised his eyebrows at his wife's last comment. She'd been right, of course. Harry and Dempsey were involved. Chas assumed nobody else had caught the change. Spikings stared at him. The Superintendent closed the door to his office.

"How long has this been going on?" Spikings asked.

"Don't know, Guv. Couple of months."

Spikings sat down behind his desk.

"Is it true love?"

"Well, it's Harry, sir." Chas shrugged.

"Yes." He waved a hand at the door. "Does anyone else know?"

"I don't think so. The boys would have talked about it." Chas mused. "I can imagine Harry'd want to keep this secret."

Considering the ramifications, Spikings rubbed his head.

"What's even more remarkable, now that I think about it, is that Dempsey actually has the discipline to comply with Harry's wish." Chas said.

"Yes."

"What are you going to do, Guv?"

So far, the relationship didn't impact their work. He'd give them some time.

"Nothing yet, Chas. Thank you." With a curt nod, Spikings dismissed Chas. "Oh, Chas? Let's keep this between us, eh?"

"Sure, Guv."


End file.
